


Invictus

by jehanjetaime



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (but no actual pregnancy I want to make that perfectly clear), Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bottling emotions, Crying, Dysphoria, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy Scares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Trans Lavellan, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Trauma, Victim Blaming, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehanjetaime/pseuds/jehanjetaime
Summary: After going missing for two weeks, Inquisitor Eldan Lavellan returns to Skyhold.Eldan - feisty, hilarious, and engaging - becomes just the Inquisitor. For his own sanity, that is all that he feels he can be.  He is cold, distant. A man doing a job. He is nothing like the man the Iron Bull was slowly falling for.The Inquisitor needs help, that is certain. The question is, will he accept any attempts to do so?-Tags will evolve as the story does.This story was once titled "Tell Me" and has been renamed!





	1. Out of the Night That Covers Me, Black As the Pit From Pole to Pole

**Author's Note:**

> Well here goes nothin'. This one is not connected to my other story featuring Eldan.
> 
> Eldan's appearace can be found [here](http://78.media.tumblr.com/0abcf712189391e66c3548e818016851/tumblr_p3ndveM8011qhx0x4o1_500.jpg) and [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DWrB3uGVoAAOa9x.jpg:large)!

Eldan’s body was aching. Every nerve was on fire, his limbs felt heavier than stone, and his insides were dried up and crumbling. The last time he had come stumbling towards Skyhold, it had been to a camp of tents nowhere near the fortress. Now home loomed above him, but he felt just as broken and scared as he had before. This time, Cullen did not shout out, _“There he is!”_ No one rushed forward to greet him, though he knew that the guards saw him. Had Lord Speckles made it home? Eldan had sent the dracolisk home when things looked bleak, forced to scare him off with a hard smack on the backside with his axe.

All that was keeping him going was the idea that, when Lord Speckles returned home alone, someone would come to see just what had happened. But either no one had come, or they hadn’t found him. Fear lived in Eldan’s stomach that his beloved mount had never arrived back at Skyhold. Nearly everyone knew how much he loved Lord Speckles - for that dracolisk to come home alone would have been a warning sign that something had gone wrong.

And something had gone very, very wrong.

A horn sounded ahead of him. Eldan raised his hand - the only thing he was good for to most of these people - to let them know to raise the gate. A shape moved behind it, and the moment there was any room beneath the gate, the shape ducked low to escape. Eldan, without his signature teal armor, without his rune-encrusted axe, didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t handle anything other than collapsing into bed.

So when he saw a flash of pale hair and a wide hat before Cole wrapped those thin arms around him, relief flooded his system. “I knew you were coming, friend,” Cole said as Eldan leaned against him. “You must come inside.”

“C’mon, kid,” came a rough, familiar voice. Eldan looked over Cole’s shoulder and saw Varric sauntering towards them. “Bring him here.”

Eldan pulled away from Cole. Varric’s eyes widened when he took in Eldan’s appearance - red ears, filthy face, split lip, wearing boots that were not his own with soft underclothes that clung to curves his binder usually hid. Unarmed. Eyes sunken. Wrists marred. Varric rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, shit. This can’t be good.”

 

* * *

 

Eldan was rushed into Skyhold, and into the closest building, just to get him out of public eye in his current state. Cole’s hat was pressed over the Inquisitor’s head, fabric taut over his large ears. The barn was nearby, and Varric kept Bianca in his grip the entire walk there. That ought to stop any needless questions.

“What’s this?” Blackwall said, looking up from the block of wood he was sanding. Eldan swept into the barn, past him, going right to the stables. His knees nearly gave out when Lord Speckles looked up and clicked in joy. Eldan abandoned Cole’s hat and flung open the door to wrap his arms around the dracolisk’s neck. He had made it through the past two weeks with no tears. Now, they came as a flood, his face pressed against the dark blue scales.

“It’s...a lot,” Varric said. “More than I think we know.”

Blackwall sighed. He moved over to the stables. Eldan was all of the way inside, sobbing into the neck of his mount. The Dalish had always been close to their animals. Blackwall shut the door behind him and leaned against it, making sure that no one looked too closely. Cole hovered nearby, muttering under his breath. “If you want to help, Cole,” Blackwall murmured, not wanting anyone to overhear, “then go tell Lady Montilyet that we need to get the Inquisitor to his room without anyone noticing. Do you understand?”

Cole nodded and all but disappeared. Blackwall met Varric’s serious gaze. They needed to get this young man - because that was all he was, under the Inquisition, under the banner of Herald, under the glowing green aura and all of the power - upstairs and safe. Everything else could wait.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know, chief,” Krem said, looking at the scuffed areas in wet grass and dirt. “This coulda been anything. Harding said His Worship came out this way but doesn’t mean a thing, does it?”

He turned his gaze to the Iron Bull, who was looking very seriously through the remains of a camp. They were back on the Storm Coast, where the Inquisitor had last been seen before disappearing. The chief had offered the Chargers up right away to investigate, which Krem had found odd. Then again, the Iron Bull always did have a fondness for red-headed elves.

Straightening up, the chief looked Krem in the eye. “Suppose not. But something still doesn’t feel right about this place, you know? Bad energy.” He cracked his knuckles, then raised his voice so the others could hear. “Let’s head back to camp before the rain drowns us!”

As it was nighttime and they had been at it all day, no one was going to argue. Krem headed up front, just to see what was going through the chief’s mind, when a black raven swooped from the sky and landed on the Iron Bull’s horn.

“From Red,” he said, stopping to take the note from the bird. He read it quickly, then shooed the bird away. “He’s made it back to Skyhold. That’s all it says.

“Well boys, forget camp. Looks like we’re heading home.”


	2. I Thank Whatever Gods May Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really just flying by the seat of my pants on this thing here. I have no concrete plans so it's an adventure for all of us.

Eldan did not remember going up to his quarters. One moment he had been rubbing Lord Speckles’ neck while the dracolisk made sympathetic sounds of sorrow; the next, it was morning once more and he was waking up in his luxurious bed, bandages wrapped about his wrists and the grime removed from his skin. His body was aching, but it was a cleaner ache that only came from healing magic. Who had it been? A memory, of begging for Stitches, then begging for Dorian. _“He understands, please, no one else...he understands.”_ Funny. Eldan did not feel much like begging now.

He didn’t feel much of anything now. All of the panic that had been in his chest, the fear, the guilt - gone. Even the anxiety, which had been a constant in his life for as long as he could recall, was gone. Everything had been replaced with a hollowness, from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his feet. His body was scarred, his eyes were sunken, but on the inside Eldan felt nothing. Feared nothing. Was nothing.

That made it very easy to swing his legs out of bed. His thighs were still tight, twitching all the way up between his legs, but he paid the sensation no mind as he moved to his wardrobe. Another binder slipped over his chest, then his usual yellow coat, tan pants, and teal sash. Eldan spent much more time than usual making sure that he looked completely put together and proper. He braided the left section of his hair back and combed the rest of it over to the right, as usual. His lip was healed with a mark, but nothing could seem to banish the hollow look of his cheeks or the heavy bags under his eyes. That was fine. Everyone knew that he had been missing; he would be allowed a day of looking tired.

He opened the door to take the stairs down, but found himself face to face with Josephine. She looked hesitant, and Eldan assumed that she had been trying to make herself knock. “Oh, you are awake. I am glad to see it, Inquisitor. How are y-”

“Is there something that you need me to do, Ambassador?” Eldan had not heard himself speak that day, but he was not surprised to hear the rawness from his throat. What did give him just a moment of pause was how monotone he sounded - more like a Tranquil than anything else.

Josephine looked at him in surprise. He had never interrupted her before. She took in his dull eyes, the bored line of his mouth, and let her own posture soften. “I was just coming to see how you were doing this morning.”

“I am awake,” he said. “What needs to be done today?”

“I would...recommend that you rest, Inquisitor. Dorian has done what he can but both himself and the surgeon have said that you should not be on your feet until at least tomorrow.” Josephine’s eyes were warm. Eldan did not care.

He just held his shoulders as straight as possible. “I will be the one to decide that. I would like to go finish up a few things in the Hinterlands.”

“Very well,” Josephine said, though he could sense her hesitation. She dropped her eyes, scanning the parchment she always had with her. “If you wish to bring the Iron Bull with you, you may want to wait regardless - he took the Chargers out to search for you, my lord, and has yet to return.”

“Very well, thank you, Josephine.” Eldan accompanied her down the stairs. Funny. Four days ago, he had been silently pleading for the Iron Bull to come to him, to help him. Two weeks ago, they had bid each other a very intimate goodbye before Eldan’s solo mission. Eldan had fallen in love with Bull from the moment he saw him. Love at first sight. It had taken quite a bit courage to finally flirt with the Qunari, and though things had not progressed beyond the physical, Eldan had been sure that it would. That had been so important to him before. The Eldan of two weeks passed would have flushed bright red and felt his heart flutter at the idea of the Iron Bull coming to his rescue. The Eldan of four days ago had plastered that scarred, patched face over the face of every attacker in hopes of making it all somewhat bearable.

Eldan as he stood now felt nothing. The news did nothing to him, and Eldan had no reaction for Josephine. When she squeezed his hand at the bottom of the stairs, before opening the door to the throne room, he had no reaction. He did not even return the gesture. He walked her to her office as was only polite, then moved on to the Undercroft. While he waited, he would get a few things done.

 

* * *

 

“Everyone take a rest,” the Iron Bull said as he and the Chargers entered the tavern.

Krem looked him over, eyes curious. “You going to go check on the Inquisitor? You seem awfully. Invested.”

“He’s the savior of the entire fuckin' world, Krem de la creme. And he’s a good guy, the sort this world could stand to have a few more of.” He looked up to the tower where he hoped Eldan was resting. “He’s my dragon hunting companion and a damn good friend.

“That behind doesn’t hurt either.”

Krem laughed and slapped him on the shoulder before taking off after the rest of the boys. The Iron Bull nodded at Cabot before turning around and moving towards the main stairs.

“Oi!” called out a familiar voice. He looked up to see Sera half-hanging out of the room she had somehow taken control of and stuffed with who knew what. She waved him up towards her. “Stop wastin’ my time, blocky, get up here before you go around makin’ a big fool of yourself!”

She ducked back inside. Even if Bull had any sort argument, there was no one around to hear it. With a glance back towards the Inquisitor’s tower, the Iron Bull returned to the tavern and rounded up the stairs. He didn’t trust the flimsy wooden things, and sort of thought that they were at risk of cracking under his weight at any moment. The floor underneath him on the second floor landing was more solid and he took long strides to Sera’s room.

She pulled him inside and the shut the door, then put her hands on his chest. He couldn’t help the smirk that played over his face. “Didn’t think you liked sausage, Sera.”

“Get off,” Sera said, slugging him in the arm. She was joking, but the smile faded rather quickly. “Lissun here, Sera sees everything. I might not be no Nightingale but I got sharp eyes of my own, and I’ve seen how you act around Lord Elfy Greenhand. Which is why I wanna tell you that he came back last night looking like he’d been pulled here by a horse with real stomach problems.”

The Iron Bull’s mood quickly faded from 'teasing' to 'concerned.' “He did? What happened?”

“That’s the kicker - ain’t no one knows! He won’t tell no one, and he’s been actin’ real weird all day. Won’t even talk to Cole and we all know how much he likes that little ghost guy. Been held up in the Undercroft. Dagna down there says he won’t even sit while he’s craftin’ them runes and what not.” Sera’s smile did not falter, but her eyes held concern. “I just wanted to tell ya before you went off.”

“Thanks, Sera,” Bull said with sigh. He had to move carefully in this room to avoid getting caught in her weird skull-candle-cage thing. “In the Undercroft, huh? Maybe I’ll go see if he won’t open up to me.”

Sera opened her mouth, then closed it. “No, I’ll make that joke when he’s back to normal. Go get’im, big guy - no one makes ‘im smile quite like you.”

Bull bid Sera goodbye and made a beeline for the Undercroft. He knew that with his size and the scowl on his face, no one would even think to stop him. Varric held a hand out as the Iron Bull passed by, but Bull paid him no attention.

He all but threw the Undercroft door open. He made sure to arrange his face into a calmer expression before actually taking a step in. The Arcanist dwarf was standing off to one side, and Harritt was on the other side of the cave. Both of them were obviously ignoring the bronto in the room, which was a redheaded elf, bent over a table, working away on some weapon or another. He didn’t even seem to notice Bull.

With care, Bull moved over to the table. “What are you making, boss?”

“I am improving Sera’s bow,” he said, and right away, Bull was struck with an innate feeling of...wrongness. “She was slow during the last battle and I cannot have that.”

Each word, carefully chosen, was in tact and whole. No emotion to any of them. No tone. Nothing.

Nothing at all to remind Bull of the elf he had romped with not too long ago. What had he been through? Bull would try to play it light, but every part of his training was screaming at him that Eldan was not alright. “That’s a good idea, don’t want to be down an archer.”

There was no response. Eldan just continued to work. The Iron Bull looked over to Harritt, who just shrugged. He sighed and let his hand hover just over Eldan’s back. “I’m glad to see you’re back safely, Eldan.”

The elf seemed to turn to stone. For the first time, he turned to face Bull. A new cut to match the one already on his lip. Ears that seemed...mottled. As if they had been gnawed on. Tired eyes. Haunted eyes, the once bright green gone dark. No expression on his face. “Things will resume as normal from now on,” he said, voice even but empty. “Prepare yourself. We leave for the Hinterlands by midday.”

He took Sera’s bow and left without so much as a glance at anyone. The Iron Bull let out a rough breath through his lips. What had he missed? What hadn’t he been quick enough to stop?

Dagna sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Even I can tell something’s not right. I hope he bounces back soon!”

Bull grunted in agreement. He’d give Eldan some time alone. But later tonight, they would have a talk. Bull shook his head and left the Undercroft. Before anything else, he needed something to drink; it was time to go back to the tavern.


	3. For My Unconquerable Soul

That night came quicker than anyone could have expected. The Inquisitor had pushed the team to their limits while hunting down bears. They used to frighten him, but no more. Now a bear was just something else that bled when it was cut. By the time they settled in at the Forest Camp for the night, they were all coated in blood and viscera, but they had completed their task. Varric settled on one side of the fire, Bianca at his side. The Inquisitor moved past him despite the call of, “Hey, Splatter.”

He walked past Dorian and Bull wordlessly as well, and once he disappeared into his tent, Dorian sighed. “I was hoping that he would feel better after the vicious way he was destroying those...well, everything we saw.”

“It’s a good thing he’s resting now,” the Iron Bull said. “You two saw him when he first came in?”

Varric nodded, then glanced at the tent Eldan had taken. He waved the other two over to the other side of the camp, where they gathered around one of the tables. He kept his voice low. “He looked like a nightmare when Cole and I helped him in,” he muttered. “Bloody, bruised up, limping something awful. He was crying but I don’t think he even knew it.”

“I went up to him the moment I heard. He didn’t want anyone else to touch him, only me or your man Stitches,” Dorian said. It was clear why - everyone in their small group new of Eldan’s identity and struggles, but it was not common knowledge among most people in Skyhold. “It was...hard to see him that way. He was more a broken child than the Herald of Andraste. I don’t think a single part of him was free from injury.”

He looked back towards the tent. Dorian knew more than he could ever let on. This was not his story to tell. All he could do was hope that Eldan would find a way to heal beyond what Dorian had been able to do for him, and offer a careful ear when Eldan decided he was ready. It would be Bull, when he was ready, however. It had been Bull from the moment Eldan first visited the Storm Coast. Dorian knew the glint in those bright green eyes too well. That glint was no longer there. Could the Iron Bull tell?

“Tread carefully,” Dorian said. “He IS having a reaction, but until he is ready or even becomes a danger to himself, I do not know what we can do.”

“We’ll figure it out. We have to.” The Iron Bull rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “He can’t live this way forever.”

 

* * *

 

When Eldan woke up from the half dazed stupor he would count as sleep and left the tent, he found the Iron Bull laying there, on his back, just to the side of the tent. He paid no attention to the Qunari other than noting his presence. The Inquisitor stepped by him and finished preparations for the morning. The bears were no longer a threat, so they were free to move on. The Inquisitor roused the camp and waited for everyone to have breakfast. He himself ate nothing and waved off Dorian’s attempts to get him to sit and eat. Once everything was settled, he strapped his axe – an improvement on the old one, at least – to his back. “Passing Skyhold,” he said. “Emprise du Lion. Tower Camp.”

And there was nothing else to be said.

He kept at the front of the pack while they took the long path to the Emprise du Lion. Behind him, his companions spoke, but The Inquisitor did not listen. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon as they left the Hinterlands behind to skirt the edge of Lake Calenhad before beginning the descent into the Frostbacks. The Inquisitor did not pull his hood up against the winds when they came, nor the snow. He walked until they could walk no further, made camp for one night, then took up the trail again in the morning. He had nothing to say to anyone unless it was about their plans, their surroundings, or the needs of the group. Dorian tried to engage him in conversation, which the Inquisitor let fall flat. When Varric tried to get him to play that spotting game that bothered Cassandra so, the Inquisitor refused to answer. As the wind picked up, Bull tried to position himself between the Inquisitor and the bulk of the gale. Something in the very pit of the Inquisitor’s soul twitched. He just ignored it and pushed through, saying nothing.

When they finally arrived at the busy Tower Camp, the Inquisitor gave his party a chance to rest and took off on his own. The cold was bracing. The Inquisitor found the tallest climbable rock that was not too far from the camp. He wasted no time in scaling to the highest part he could reach and found a perch there. The snow and rock bit against his backside and thighs through his leathers, which the Inquisitor found preferable to the aching burn that he had experienced there for so long.

The Inquisitor looked out over the frozen landscape. There were dragons that needed slaying nearby, but the Inquisitor no longer took any pleasure in the idea of teaming up with Bull to destroy them. He would do it, because there were lives at stake if he did not. But the idea did not bring him any joy, nor did it excite him.

It was something the Inquisitor had to do, as part of his title and the very reason he still existed. His left hand tingled. The Inquisitor raised it, looking at the way it became anonymous against the sun. This could have been anyone’s hand. This could have been the hand of a baker, of a dancer, of a beggar. But it was his. This hand belonged to the Inquisitor. It belonged to the Inquisition.

He sighed and started the descent down the rock. There was too much to do to waste time like this.

 

* * *

 

That night, the Inquisitor made for his tent the moment they were back at camp, just as he had the night before. He just wanted to be out of the public eye to have a moment and think about what he wanted to do. What he needed to do. There were plenty of people around even at the late hour.

As he entered the tent, a hand gently touched his wrist. The Inquisitor turned, whipping his hand away - in fact, he reached for the handle of his axe. His vision swam and, for a moment, he was back on the Storm Coast. But then large horns and eye patch took form. That face had been in the Storm Coast too, but only in his mind. No. This was the Emprise du Lion. He was in the Emprise du Lion, surrounded by forces that were his to command.

“Sorry, boss,” the Iron Bull said, taking a step back and holding his hands up at shoulder level. “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been...quiet.”

“I am just concentrating on the task at hand,” he said. His voice. Did it waver? That couldn’t happen. “I am the Inquisitor, a-”

“I don’t want to talk to the Inquisitor.” Bull stepped closer, leaned in. The Inquisitor did not move. When the familiar scent of the Qunari hit the Inquisitor’s nostrils he was not filled with the urge to lay in his arms, or hold him tightly, or even sit close to him. Bull looked him over carefully, that one eye passionate. “I want to talk to Eldan.”

The Inquisitor straightened his spine. “We are going after those dragons tomorrow. Ready yourself. At least someone in the group should look forward to the task.”

He turned and entered his tent, which he tied closed behind him. The Inquisitor listened, but he did not hear heavy steps retreating from his tent for a long time.


	4. In the Fell Clutch of Circumstance

“If he doesn’t want to talk, my dear, there is nothing we can do for him,” Vivienne said to Josephine as they sat in the garden, a cup of tea for each. She nodded at Cullen when he joined them, a tray of fresh tea in his hands. He shouldn’t have been the one serving the tea, in her humble opinion, but she would not deny the small pleasure of a handsome man bringing her treats.

The Ambassador sighed, and Vivienne noted the shine of her earrings in the sunlight. Sapphire – a good choice for a gem of a woman. “I only wish that he would let us help him.”

“It’s in his nature to handle problems himself,” Cullen said. “He wants to go on every little mission that is sent his way, rather than leave it to soldiers, or Leliana’s people. The Inquisitor and I have talked extensively before all of this, and I believe that he is the sort of man to take control of his own life – to let go of even a little of control, even if it is in your own favor, can be. Terrifying.”

Vivienne’s sharp eyes caught his faraway look. Hm. What _had_ the Inquisitor and the Commander been discussing? “Men will be men, Josephine. Let him kill a few things, get some blood underneath his nails and things will change for the better. I guarantee it.”

Josephine accepted another cup of tea and gently blew on it. She looked out over Skyhold, musing over what the fortress had become, all of the repairs that Eldan had made, all of the people he had brought in, the mounts, the commerce, the flora. The mage towers pointed into the sky, full of learned people studying their craft. Nearby, a Dalish woman tended to some herbs. She could hear the whinnying of horses as they were exercised, and the clanking of armor as the Chargers and the soldiers worked together to better themselves for the cause.

This was the world Eldan had built. Vivienne was a highly intelligent woman, but on this, she was wrong. Eldan did not need to be out in the field right now. If there was any chance for improvement, Eldan needed to be at Skyhold, at home, surrounded by all he had built and those who loved him.

 

* * *

 

The Inquisitor’s shoulders heaved as he rested the head of his axe against the ground. The dragon’s steaming corpse rested before them, the body finally still after the final twitches of death. He was bloody, soaked in viscous red from head to toes. At least they were one step closer to keeping the people safe. One dragon remained, and the Inquisitor was ready to destroy at as he had done the first two.

He glanced at his party. The Iron Bull had no sign of joy on his face as he started the process of gutting the thing to see what treasures it had swallowed. Nothing like before, when the defeat of a dragon brought a glint to his eye and a firm hand against Eldan’s behind. Varric, cleaning off Bianca while sitting on a rock, chest expanded as he struggled to catch his breath. Last, Dorian, standing near the dragon’s head, and looking right back at the Inquisitor. “That was a quick move,” he said, nodding in the Inquisitor’s direction. “Snapping that tendon made quick work of this beast.”

The Inquisitor moved over to the skull. He would send some people for anything else that could be scavenged from the corpse. “Your flames were what weakened it.

We need to get the tower and move on to the Ravager.”

“I don’t know, Splatter,” Varric said, messing with something on his crossbow. “I think Bianca needs some tweaking before she’ll be up to another dragon.”

Rolling the kinks out of his neck, the Inquisitor nodded. “Then you return to camp. “Dorian, Bull – we will move on.”

The Iron Bull straightened up from the stomach, arms covered in viscera. “Let’s at least get this loot sorted out first,” he said, trying to do what Varric had failed at. He saw the way the Dalish Reaver had struggled to even lift his axe at the end. “She was a big girl and it looks like a lot of other idiots tried to kill her before we got here.”

The Inquisitor had no reason to disagree, and rounded the dragon’s skull to see what had been found. At Bull’s feet, there was a pile of the usual fare. A hefty sword with a jeweled hilt that looked perfect for Cassandra. A dagger with a serpentine blade, still attached to a worn down belt. Three rings, a wooden shield, a helmet that could just be scrapped, and what looked as if it might have been a journal at one point. If the Inquisitor’s time hunting down the entire population of Thedas had taught him anything, it was to never ignore a journal. He crouched down and picked it up – carefully, since the integrity of parchment that had been in a dragon’s stomach acid could not be trusted.  The leather of the cover nearly came apart in his hands, the journal slipped from his grasp. It hit a rock and fell to pieces, pages stained with splotchy, running ink coming loose.

“I do hope there weren’t any good recipes in there,” Dorian quipped, but the Inquisitor hardly heard him.

He had seen what was under the book. It was an amulet – an elongated octagon locket, heavy, with thick carvings and points that jutted out at each joint. The Inquisitor raised his hand to his mouth, where his lip had been split by a point like that while...he shook his head. His hand slipped to cover his entire mouth as he struggled to his feet. That didn’t help, though, as his stomach rejected everything that had been given to him in the past few days. The Inquisitor hadn’t eaten much since coming home, but that did not stop him from retching, mess joining the blood on his hand, down his front, and splashing over his boots. The acid burned his throat but there was nothing stopping the reaction. The Inquisitor doubled over, trying to control the way his stomach roiled like waves on the sea.

“It’s alright,” came a voice that was far too calm for the upheaval inside of the Inquisitor. A heavy hand landed on his back, and stayed there until there was nothing left to purge from his body. “That’s it for the day. No more dragons. No more anything. I’m picking you up now, alright?

The Inquisitor said nothing, but let the Iron Bull hoist him up. His hand dangled at his side, and he let his head fall against Bull’s shoulder protector. The Inquisitor wanted to fight. He wanted to pull away and demand that they go fight that dragon.

Instead, he let the Iron Bull carry him away.

 

* * *

 

Once back at the camp, the Iron Bull took charge. He could tell that some of the soldiers around weren’t happy about that, but he didn’t care. He got three mounts ready - not Eldan’s beloved dracolisk, who he had insisted on leaving behind at Skyhold - and helped Eldan up his own mount. Bull tucked the elf to his chest with one arm, a blanket over his legs. Eldan was mostly unresponsive. He just let the party take off, Dorian and Varric flanking him. As they took off for Skyhold, the Iron Bull made sure that Eldan was against his chest, safe from falling off. Behind them, a small group followed with a chest full of the things that they had gathered in the Hinterlands and the Emprise du Lion - including whatever had caused that reaction in Eldan. Bull could have believed that Eldan was just finally succumbing to the stresses of what had happened to him. (Bull couldn’t think too hard about that, because he wasn’t an idiot - he thought he knew exactly what had happened). It was too sudden though, and Bull had seen the way his eyes widened at sight of something in that pile. Something in there had brought him to that point.

Bull urged his elk to go faster. He needed to get Eldan back to Skyhold.

He didn’t feel Eldan even stir until towers could be seen in the distance. “Let me,” Eldan said, for the first time since leaving the dragon behind. “Let me ride in on my own.”

“You should be careful,” Dorian said.

“These people cannot see me be bore before someone else like a child.” Eldan stopped the elk, and slipped off of the side. Bull tried to support him, but his efforts went unnoticed. The moment his feet were on the ground, his preferred horse was brought around from the back. Soldiers pretended not to notice the way he struggled to get on its back, but Bull saw Varric shake his head. Once in the saddle, though, Eldan seemed sturdy enough, and he led the way into Skyhold.

Greetings met them as they rode in, and the Inquisitor raised his hand – always the Anchor, what they wanted and what they needed – to acknowledge them. He rode directly to the stables, where Blackwall was waiting for them. He nodded.

“I wouldn’t leave your dracolisk again,” he said once the Inquisitor was back on the ground. He felt the man looking at him too intently, but did not acknowledge it. “He’s been snorting up a storm and clawing the hell out of his stable.”

The Inquisitor glanced over to Lord Speckles. He barely remembered coming home that day, but he remembered Lord Speckles trying to lick his hands and face clean while he cried. The Inquisitor balked to think about how they had seen him weep that way, seen him broken, and the pity that left behind in their eyes. Even Blackwall seemed to have a softer gaze. The Inquisitor’s passive face showed none of these thoughts. He walked over to the stables and let Lord Speckles smell and taste his hands. He hadn’t brought the dracolisk because he did not want to seem weak, clinging to the one creature he had been seen with in such a state. No one could see their leader that way, or even think it was possible. No. Still, the Inquisitor greeted Lord Speckles while the rest of their traveling party settled in. No one attempted to make him go inside, but he knew Bull was loitering, telling Blackwall of their adventures. He seemed to be leaving out the vomit, but the Inquisitor knew that word would spread eventually.

Once everyone was accounted for, the Inquisitor gave command for any bounty to be sent to the treasury, where Solas could take a look at everything. He turned and made for the main stairs to the throne room. He should really summon the War Council and get a few more missions running. The Chargers could be sent out, and Josephine had more likely than not finished the last thing he had set her to do. He took the steps two at a time, ready to be out of the public eye. There were nobles lingering around the throne room as always, and he knew that they were always watching. The Inquisitor swept past them without looking anyone in the eye. He swore someone called out his title, but did not turn around. If it was that important, how had it waited for him to return from his mission? He made the sharp turn to cut through Josephine’s office. As soon as he touched the door, someone grabbed his other wrist. The hand did not completely encircle his arm, but he bristled. A shout echoed through the room. “Don’t _touch_ me!”

The Inquisitor looked around to see where the shout had come from, but all he saw was Krem, standing close behind him, both hands raised to hover at his shoulders. The Inquisitor’s eyes were wild and his face was wet. Everyone was staring at him. Absolutely everyone. What seemed like a thousand masked faces were turned towards him – hands placed just so over mouths or pressed to spots on chests. A series of practiced expressions of shock followed him through the room as he realized that shout, that shriek, those words, had come from him.

“Apologies, your Worship,” Krem said, voice a hush.

What was to become of him? The Inquisitor’s face was burning, still wet. He turned and entered the door, not caring that Krem followed. The Charger shut the door behind them, then slipped in front of the stairs. There was no escape now. The Inquisitor could only return to the throne room or barge in on Josephine now.

Instead, he looked at Krem with watering eyes. “They kept grabbing me.”

“I know,” Krem whispered, and from the look in his eyes, the Inquisitor could tell that Krem _did_ know. He knew what had happened to the Inquisitor, and he knew what it felt like. For the first time since he had woken up in his bed those days ago, Eldan felt something. It was slight, but crept up his spine in an oily, winding pattern. Disgust. Disgust that this sort of thing happened, disgust that it had happened to a good man like Krem, disgust that it happened to men _like_ Krem and himself.

The Inquisitor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Krem – the first physical contact he had initiated. Krem returned the embrace, and the two of them just stood there for a moment, swaying in each other’s arms.


	5. I Have Not Winced or Cried Aloud

Bull had gone to see Eldan off to bed that night, only to find Krem coming down the stairs with red-eyes and a face that looked as if it had been wet. He had punched Bull in the shoulder, then said that Eldan was sleeping and suggested that they go knock around a bit. He agreed, which left them out under the moon, slamming shields together until Krem found a smile again.

He climbed the stairs up to his room above the tavern. Usually he stayed with the Chargers, but he wanted to be available...just in case. All Bull wanted was for Eldan to be able to trust him. Hopefully he had at least talked with Krem about all of this.

Bull didn’t even bother trying to get some sleep. He sat on that bed with some of Krem’s reports from the last couple missions, which he had been meaning to read anyways. Anything to distract himself from what was going on with the elf he had been starting to feel something real for.

Sure, at the start it had just been sex - something meaningless after Eldan had been flirting with him for a while. Something to help a clearly stressed out person relax. Something to fill Bull’s urge for red-headed elves. A fun romp with a friend. Then a couple fun romps. Bull found himself missing Eldan when they weren’t together, wondering what he was doing, and actively seeking him out. The Iron Bull had decked someone when they said some shit about Eldan’s body shape on a day the elf had been healing and unable to bind. (Apparently he just had a collection of Aqun-Athlok - he didn’t know how it had happened, either). One day, someone had called Bull an oxman; while he had been ready to laugh it off, Eldan had given that man a tongue-lashing to rival Cassandra and challenged him to a duel. Bull hadn’t been looking for anything serious, but Eldan had made him...feel something, something that he had never been prepared for under the Qun.

Now something had happened. Bull feared the worst. He had seen a lot of people taken advantage of. Eldan was in shock from something that, sometimes, the mind could not comprehend. That was clear. A lot of young soldiers went blank after something traumatizing, but this...this was beyond anything the Iron Bull had ever seen. He couldn’t stand it.

The Iron Bull wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but at some point a knocking woke him. Bull’s head was tilted back, his papers were a mess, and his candle was burned almost all of the way down.

He swung his legs out of bed as he heard footsteps away from the door, then muffled voices outside. Bull limped a little and wished he had taken his brace off before falling asleep. He opened the door and saw, at the bottom of the small set of stairs, Eldan. He was wrapped in a thick blanket that Bull knew was taken from his bed, and was standing in front of Cole. The kid was wringing his hands together, but both of them turned to face Bull when the door opened.

“He’s been shouting,” Cole said. “In his head. For days. For the Iron Bull.”

Eldan did not look up at him, but shook his head. Bull exited the doorway and descended the stairs. “Which one of you knocked?”

“It was him,” Cole said.

Bull hovered at Eldan’s side. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

When a hand extended from that blanket and rested on Bull’s wrist, he took it as a yes. “Thank you, Cole.”

“Help me,” Cole said, watching Eldan follow Bull up the stairs. “See past all of it and help me. I am lost and afraid. I begged for you to come for me. Do not let me go.”

Bull made sure Eldan was in the room before turning back to look at Cole. “I won’t. Not again. I’ll...see you in the morning, kid.”

He shut the door, then went over to sit on his bed. Eldan wouldn’t look him in the eye, standing in the doorway and wrapped in a blanket worth more than some houses. “Wanna sit?”

The way Eldan wasn’t speaking scared the Iron Bull down to his bone, but he couldn’t let the elf know that. Still, he sat on edge of Bull’s bed. “Thought you usually stayed with the Chargers,” he said, letting relief wash through Bull. “Did not think you would actually be here.”

“But you came.”

“I did.” Then a hiccup, and Eldan was trembling again. “Mythal, I _did_ …”

A wave of rage swept over the Iron Bull, but he controlled it. Eldan did not need that right now. “Come here. You’re home now. Skyhold. Herald’s Rest. A place where you’re safe. Especially here. Nothing that happened to you outside of these walls can get to you here.

“...can I touch you, boss?”

Eldan nodded, and Bull put a careful arm around his shoulders. When that seemed to be alright, he tucked Eldan against his side. “You know, on one of my first missions with the boys, we ran into this tiny little town in the Anderfels. It was so far in the mountains that it’s not even on any maps. There was this little old lady who was trying to get a garden planted. The Chargers and me, we spent a week there getting her garden set up. I had never seen most of the vegetables before, and she let me try anything I wanted. Went back a couple years later and she wasn’t around anymore, but her garden was. Still is. Maybe I could bring you some time to see it.”

“B...bull…” He recognized the way Eldan was convulsing, and was at least able to get him over to a bucket in the corner before Eldan was retching again. That was an entirely different part of the problem, and one he didn’t know how to fix. He sat on the ground, rubbing Eldan’s back as he knelt in front of the bucket. “It’s...it lasted. So long. My body, it...I could never trust it, it betrayed me, and now, I…

“I do not want to be Eldan anymore. I want to be just the Herald. The Inquisitor. _He_ is a hero, a protector of the weak, a man people can trust. Not a scared elf writhing on the fucking ground under a filthy shem.”

That, more than anything, struck the Iron Bull. He had never heard Eldan use the word ‘shem’ before. He was so taken aback that only Eldan’s hand on his brought his attention back to the words being said. “I w-wish it had only been shemlen. Templars…”

The Iron Bull could hardly believe it when Eldan leaned against his chest and curled one arm around him to cup his shoulder blade. “Red,” Eldan muttered, his entire body tense. Bull could not even let himself begin to think of what that meant, ignoring the only possible explanation for those words together in that way.

“Not here,” he murmured to Eldan, hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “None of that here. Just you and me. Cole’s downstairs, and Sera. A building full of people here for you, Eldan.”

A hiccup, but no tears. “I know,” Bull whispered. “I know it’s easier to just become a thing, a hand on a hilt. But Eldan is too wonderful of a person to hide under the shadow of Inquisitor.”

Eldan shook his head. Bull bundled him up and brought him over to the bed. “Stay, Bull...please. Stay with me.”

“It’s my room, you know,” he muttered. Still, he lay down with his companion against his side. Eldan turned away from him, using the Iron Bull’s shoulder as a pillow and wrapping his arm around Bull’s bicep.

They settled down, under both blankets. Bull kept a grip on Eldan, with the same arm Eldan gripped wrapped around the elf, a meaty hand on his side. After a moment of quiet, Eldan said, “A garden in the Anderfels?”

“Nicest one I’ve seen.” Bull pinched the candle out, plunging them into darkness.

Eldan’s voice was like silk in the dark. “Perhaps we can see it one day.”

“I’ll take you there. I promise.” Soon, the Iron Bull would find out exactly who had hurt Eldan, who had kept him prisoner and tried to break him. He would take every single one of them and make them grovel for forgiveness before suffering painful deaths. But for now, all Bull could do was offer a place for Eldan to sleep. Hopefully, this was the first step in the road to recovery.

Bull would help him every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where would DAI fics be without Cole's constant help?


	6. Under the Bludgeonings of Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into it now. I am...trying to write Solas objectively so. Good luck me. Manly bonding ahoy!

The next day, Cullen found the Inquisitor at breakfast. They had a quiet meal - Cullen asked no questions save about the Inquisition, and the Inquisitor offered nothing about what had happened. Cullen noted that the Inquisitor ate a full meal, which he knew hadn’t been the norm, and noticed that he was playing with a ring that hung from a leather cord around his neck.

“I haven’t seen that before,” he mentioned, breaching the realm of the personal for the first time that morning.

“It is the Iron Bull’s,” Eldan said. Cullen did notice that he was still speaking with a stagnant, formal tone. “He told me to wear it.”

“Does it...ah, have significance?” Cullen knew - as did everyone - that there was something going on between the Inquisitor and the mercenary, but not exactly what. He had never wanted to ask because the answer was probably terrifying to think about.

Eldan was quiet for so long that Cullen wasn’t sure that he was even going to answer. “It belonged to his Tamassran.”

After Kirkwall, Cullen had done some research on the Qunari. Also, he had sat with the Iron Bull in Herald’s Rest more than one night, with Bull trying to teach him how to loosen up. He knew that things must have been serious for Bull to give Eldan that ring, even just for now. Either they were much more devoted to one another than anyone knew, or Eldan was so shaken than Bull thought he needed a physical reminder of how much he was cared for. “Well, perhaps you should take it off if you don’t want to lose it, because you and I are going to have a sparring match.”

Eldan blinked up at him. “Oh, we are?”

“If you’re feeling up to it. Some of our recruits are looking a little shabby and I thought that seeing you and I go at it might really help them improve their form.” It wasn’t a lie - some of the young men from Denerim were absolutely appalling with a sword, and Cullen wanted to improve morale. He just hadn’t expected it would be the Inquisitor’s morale.

“I suppose we could. Let us go quickly - if anyone catches wind of me even trying to exert myself I fear they shall strap me to the bed until I am fixed,” Eldan said, standing up.

Cullen rolled his shoulders, thinking of the box in his office. If he let anyone know of that, he would be in the same position as the Inquisitor. “Then let’s go prove you’re not some pretty porcelain doll who needs to be sat on a shelf.”

He swore a smile played at the corners of Eldan’s mouth. “I must agree.”

 

* * *

 

The feeling of his axe against Cullen’s shield sent a reverberation through the Inquisitor’s spine; it made him feel alive. When they had started this, only a handful of soldiers were about. Now the bout had gone on so long that the soldiers were lost among a sea of their fellows. Mages watched from the other side, which the Inquisitor felt was proper - he often found himself concerned that a mage who found themself without magic would not have any other form of defense. Perhaps a team could be made, to teach them basic fighting skills.

His distraction meant that Cullen’s shield hit him square in the chest. The pain became exquisite it its honor. Cullen was not holding back against him, and the Inquisitor was grateful for that. As he hit the ground, a chorus of boos or cheers went up in the crowd. At the very least that meant there were people here who were rooting for Cullen, and not everyone felt as if they had to cheer for their Inquisitor based on who he was.

“Darling Inquisitor,” called out a smooth voice from above the crowd. The Inquisitor pushed himself up and saw Vivienne standing among the mages, regal and beautiful. “Are you really going to let that mangy dog take you down?”

Amid the crowd, someone woofed. Laughter followed, and the Inquisitor pushed himself back up. He swung his axe, first just in an arc, but then in swirls made of more complex patterns,

“Does that fancy work scare you, Commander?” came Leliana’s voice. She was watching from a lower level of ramparts, hood obscuring all but an almost smile.

“He wishes,” Cullen called out.

Then they were at it again. The Inquisitor pushed against Cullen with all of his might, and was happy to feel the man’s force against him. Each clash drew cheers from the crowd, and the Inquisitor heard the Chargers take up their song. That boosted his stamina and the Inquisitor found it in him to push back, axe flailing against Cullen’s shield until he had the man shoved against the fence. He felt his face split in a grin that felt very unnatural after days of a blank expression.

He did not know that the Iron Bull had seen that grin, but he head the Qunari roar when Cullen dropped his sword. “I yield!”

More cheers, and some calls of disapproval, as the Inquisitor stepped back. He and Cullen shook hands, the waved to the crowd. Cullen called to some of the recruits, summoning them to the ring, and the Inquisitor stepped back.

“Good to come out on top, isn’t it?” Bull asked as the Inquisitor climbed over the fence. “It was nice to see you out there that way.”

“Thank you. Hopefully that assists the commander with his issues.” The Inquisitor looked Bull over, then touched his knuckles to Bulls’ hand.

From her perch on the ramparts, Leliana watched that red hair swing as Eldan leaned his head against the Iron Bull’s arm - a moment of calm in a turbulent world, a turbulent soul. She adjusted her hood before dipping back into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

“You wanted to speak with me, Solas?”

The Inquisitor did not often enter Solas’ central room other than in passing. For the mage to have summoned him, something very big must have been happening indeed. When he came in, Solas was leaning over the table. The Inquisitor’s heart dropped into his stomach when he saw what was there. A pile of nearly-destroyed journal pages. Three worn away rings. A spiked amulet. Solas looked at him with those deep, knowing eyes. “I have looked into these items, lethallin, as requested.”

“Oh?” The Inquisitor tried to keep his voice even; his hand fiddled with the ring around his neck. “What have you found?”

Solas gestured to the couch in the corner of his room. He picked up the pendant and pages before they both took a seat. “Many of these pages were illegible, or beyond salvage, but I believe that I have come to understand what these people were attempting to do.

“It is a red templar breeding program, Inquisitor. Instead of just infusing the templars themselves with the red lyrium, they are trying to conceive creatures from birth, using a variety of different hosts. This is all just speculation, but speculation supported by what I believe is a great amount of evidence. I am currently making copies of the notes for yourself and your advisors. If this is indeed what is happening, drastic steps must be taken.” Solas’ grip on the papers shifted. “I…believe that the sigil on the amulet is the symbol adopted by the group attempting to do this.”

That sigil – two crossed swords with flaming handles – was very familiar to the Inquisitor. “There…is…is there any hints of…where?” Did that sentence even make sense? He had to try again. The Inquisitor balked at nothing. He was being too obvious – by now, everyone had to know what had happened to him. There was nothing he was hiding. “Are there any clues as to where this group meets?”

“I could not say, Inquisitor. I will speak with Leliana, though, and see about looking into this more. We –“

“No,” the Inquisitor said. “Well. Yes. But while you do that, I will take a team out towards the Storm Coast.”

Solas nodded. “A wise idea – there was a heavy concentration of lyrium up that way.”

The Inquisitor knew that Solas was thinking one thing – that was where the Inquisitor had been when he went missing. He could not talk about it. “Thank you for your help, Solas. Once again, you have proven yourself invaluable.”

He stood and brushed his knees off. The Inquisitor needed to leave. That amulet was a curse, a battering ram that blasted through his blessed wall of numbness. The sooner they handled this, the sooner he could dispose of it and not have to feel anything ever again.

A few minor plans later, the Inquisitor left Solas to his far too intense gaze and knowing eyes. Every noble's glance felt like an accusation, or pity, as he made his way back through the fortress. Did they really know, or was his mind betraying him the way his body had? He felt pinpricks of rocks beneath him, phantom touches everywhere…no. No now. Not when he was in the middle of Skyhold this way.

To walk through the throne room with his head held high took almost all of the willpower in the Inquisitor’s body. As he put one foot in front of the other one, carrying himself towards his quarters, the Inquisitor could think of only one thing.

A breeding program, Solas had said. If it was true, had he been a test? His insides – wrong, always wrong, no matter what anyone else said – could have put him in danger yet again. And he had been finding himself with an upset stomach a lot lately. Wasn’t it too soon? It was too soon. It had to be too soon. He pushed past the throne and into the stairwell leading up to his room. The door slammed behind him, heavy and loud.

The Inquisitor made it up three steps before falling to his knees. The mere idea of it made his body feel too heavy, his insides feel too light. No. This could not happen. He was getting away with himself. The stress was forcing him to vomit, nothing else. This was not what he thought it was. That was Eldan, Eldan’s anxiety coming in to play, Eldan’s constant belief that not only was the worst going to happen, it was already happening. He was beyond that. The Inquisitor did not let that sort of thing happen to him. He had a job to do.

Instead, he rolled to press his back to the wall and his head to his knees. The Inquisitor squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, as if that would help anything. His breath was coming in short, shallow flutters that he could not control, and his entire body was shaking. His gasps echoed up the stairwell, but would not escape the door. No one was coming for him. Just like before, no one was coming for him.

When it came down to it, he was all alone. As the Inquisitor, it was his duty. His heart was pounding in his ears, sounding for all of the world like pounding on the door.

Then a voice, rough but familiar. “You right there, Splatter?”

Varric. Trustworthy Varric. Varric who had already seen too much. Varric who had never hurt him.

“Y- yes,” he managed to finally say.

“Want me to get Bull?”

Fenedhis, was he that transparent?

“No.”

“Want me to stay?”

The Inquisitor did not think he answered, but the door opened. Varric shut the door behind him, then came to sit on the step below. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my life, but – “

“Tell me,” the Inquisitor said. “Tell me some of it.”

Varric hesitated, but finally released a breathy chuckle. “Well, there was one time when I finally got Fenris to try to act like a normal person…”

He listened, half to the words and half to the sound of Varric’s voice, as Varric told a story that was so wild it had to be true. Often, the Inquisitor liked to hear about Fenris and Hawke. Their relationship seemed so unlikely, but was still going strong. It used to give him hope.

Right now, it just gave him a distraction. Forehead pressed to his knees, the Inquisitor just shut his eyes and let Varric talk.


	7. My Head is Bloody, but Unbowed

The Inquisitor had spent the last two night in the Iron Bull’s arms.

After what Solas had told him, the Inquisitor did not even try to sleep. He came into the war room the next morning with heavy bags under his eyes and his mouth burning from a terrible tasting potion, crafted by Elan. She had told him one would do but provided him with three. Once alone he had taken them all. Just in case.

He looked worse for ware, but would not hear a thing about it. The Inquisitor stood by the war table as Solas explained what he already knew. He did not look at any of his advisors. The Inquisitor would not be able to deal with seeing pity in any of their faces if they had figured out exactly what had happened to him. Leliana knew. She knew everything. Josephine was clever and able to tell things from the smallest parts of people. Cullen, he was not so sure about. He could be very innocent in some ways, but he had also been a templar and seen them with the mages. The Inquisitor wasn’t stupid. He knew what happened in the Circle towers.

“The Inquisitor has suggested that the search begins at the Storm Coast, and I believe that he is correct.” Solas looked over the map on the table. “I would also recommend sending out spies to see what else can be found elsewhere.”

“I will take Bull, Dorian, and Cole out as quickly as we can,” the Inquisitor said, moving a slightly shaking hand out over the map.

“And the Chargers,” Cullen said. “If the Iron Bull will have it. If this is as big of an operation as we think, I want more than the usual amount of agents out there.”

Did they think he needed protection? The thought rose like bile up the Inquisitor’s throat. The idea of having Krem and Stitches with him was all that kept him quiet. “Good idea. I cannot say what we are facing.”

Except he could. A camp. Leather cuffs chained to trees. His shame burned into the dirt. Signs of men and red templars alike, having fled in terror when their prisoner had broken free and started to slaughter them with a maul that had been used against him just hours before. His shouts still echoing in the air.

“Let’s get on the road - I want to get some scouting done when we get there.”

 

* * *

 

The Iron Bull knew that he had to remain calm. He was clearly on edge - grinding teeth, harsh steps, steely gaze - but was trying to control it. The last thing he wanted was to scare Eldan. His Eldan, broken by these monsters but trying to hold himself together as the only thing he could be right now, the Inquisitor.

When Leliana had informed everyone of these red templars, of the damned amulet, and of where Eldan said they should head, the Iron Bull had blacked out. When he came to, he was standing and holding tattered bits of parchment, instead of sitting and reading. Krem had stood as well, and had watched him with concern. This was nearly unbearable, for Eldan’s trauma to become the center of an entire investigation. All he could hope to do was find these bastards, kill them, and keep too many others from realizing just what had happened to their Herald.

That meant he was pushing his way through the rain at the front of the group, by Eldan’s side. For his part, Eldan was silent, working towards a destination only he knew. It hurt Bull to see how they were moving in the exact opposite direction of where he and the Chargers had been searching for Eldan. How had that only been a week ago? A week of Eldan’s suffering, followed by a day of stark horror. The monsters that did this already had a death warrant out for them. If what had happened was part of a breeding program, Bull would mount their heads on Skyhold’s gate. He knew all too much about Eldan’s discomfort in his own body, and remembered whispered fears after their shared nights together. He feared being locked into what his body threatened. Scars on the inside of his thighs from every cycle of the moon, when he said his body betrayed him. With the small elf on his chest, the Iron Bull had rubbed patterns into his back and muttered reassurances to him, promises that Eldan was not broken, not wrong. Eldan had melted into him, smiled against his neck.

The Iron Bull missed that smile. He wanted to bring that smile back to Eldan’s freckled face. He wanted to bring Eldan back.

Just as the sun reached high in the sky, there was a red glint around the corner. He heard Dorian mutter a ‘Vint obscenity, but wasted no time of his own. Bull hoisted his sword and powered around the corner. There was a group there, three red Templars and one handler. The rage that came over Bull had nothing to do with blood, or battle. Just revenge.

By the time he came back to, the entire group was dead and he was stained with blood. When he turned, his entire party was watching, clean and with their weapons not even drawn. “Check them for anything usual,” he said to Krem. “There are more of these bastards around here somewhere.”

He kept going. Krem caught up about ten minutes later and said that other than some coins, none of the enemies he had slaughtered carried anything of use. That both infuriated and pleased him. The Iron Bull did not like such conflicted feelings.

They trekked for another hour – facing two more battles in which Bull had decimated anyone to even look at him - or so before Eldan took a few running steps out in front.

“There,” he said, pointing out straight in front of him.

At first, Bull hadn’t seen anything. But then there – the fluttering of a red flag, the peak of a tent. They moved forward as a unit until it became very clear that the medium-sized camp was abandoned. He tore his eyes to look at Eldan. “You don’t have to go in, boss.”

He just shook his head, rain flicking off the loose ends of his hair. “We must investigate.”

“Do you really want to throw up in front of all of these people?” It wasn’t the nicest thing the Iron Bull had ever said, but he did not want Eldan back in there.

After just a moment, Eldan straightened his shoulders and called out to the rest of the group. “Cole, Dorian, and Bull will investigate the inside of the camp with Rocky and Grim. The rest of the Chargers, help me scout the area. Who knows what could have been spread out?”

If Bull had been the praying sort, he would have sent out a prayer of thanks that Eldan did not push it. He was pushing too many things already. Bull looked to Dorian. “Let’s find out what we can and get him out of here.”

“I can’t help but agree,” Dorian said, going over to a tent and pushing the flap aside with the toe of his expensive boot. “It reeks here.”

Cole’s voice was a shadow. As always, he was was eerily calm. “Too many memories. He should not have brought me here, not here, not now, not there, please not there, I’ll do anything but please, please…”

“This place is sad,” Cole finally finished as he wandered over to a muddy patch of land between two trees. Curious, Bull followed him over. Thankfully Cole quieted after that. Bull didn’t know if he could take anymore of Eldan’s terrified thoughts slipping out of Cole’s serene mouth. Any markings on the ground had long been washed away by endless rain, but he did spot a round object, half buried by a bush. The Iron Bull crouched and picked it up; the entire bush shook. The round bit of leather was very clearly a cuff, split in half near the buckle. One metal hoop attached it to a chain, and when Bull pulled the cuff out, a chain went taut, leading to a hook that was embedded in a tree.

His stomach dropped as he looked over to the tree next to it. Another hook, another chain, this one snapped in half. The other half lay nearby, the cuff broken. Gnawed open. “Vashedan,” he muttered, standing up and pulling the cuff out as far as it could go. As he stood between the two trees, images flashed through his mind. Eldan, tied to his bed, wrists bound by red silk, writhing and smiling and embarrassed, ready for Bull’s affections. The thought was overlaid with imagined views of Eldan on this very patch of ground, face contracted in horror, arms stretched over his head and in these very cuffs. He remembered Eldan whispering _‘Please,’_ through a kiss-swollen mouth, and imagined him begging _‘Please!’_ through bruised, chapped lips.

“Chief,” came Rocky’s voice from behind him. The Iron Bull was not aware of his own expression, but something in Rocky’s changed when he turned around. The dwarf sighed. “We found something.”

Bull dropped the cuff back to the ground, trying not to imagine it on Eldan’s wrist. This was where it had all happened. He followed Rocky, stepping over the rotting corpse of a headless horror; he made sure to kick it once. There were numerous other bodies here.

Behind one of the tents, Dorian was standing before a large, open chest. He was looking through a stack of notes. “It’s in a cipher, I can’t read a thing. I’ll need to take it back to Skyhold.”

“Is that all there is?” Bull asked.

“Sadly, no. We have found...irrefutable proof of this breeding program. Diagrams of, well, members of many races who are capable of carrying children to term.” Dorian’s entire face was drooping. He slid a parchment out of the stack. “The only one with any marking on it is the Dalish one. And...well. See for yourself.”

Dorian stepped back and gestured to the chest. The Iron Bull moved over and saw first, an axe. Large, two-handed, and bloodstone red. He recognized it right away; Eldan had wielded this thing like no one else could. He lifted the axe and set it aside. The Iron Bull reached into the chest and pulled out a piece of teal armor. What had started out as a drunken joke had become Eldan’s signature colour. The chestplate was heavy, nearly heavier than Eldan himself. It was covered in scratch marks and blood. The Iron Bull turned it over in his hand. On the inside, a childish drawing - Sera’s, it looked like - of himself. Tucked inside a corner of his chestplate, Eldan had hidden a drawing of the Iron Bull.

His eyes were burning. “Take it all. Sort through every fucking thing here then load it up and send it back to Skyhold! I want all of it out of here by morning! Send the scouts, and the rest of us are making camp!”

Dorian just looked at him. “Bull, I...will make sure it is done.”

“...thank you, Dorian.” The Iron Bull sighed, trying to control the pressure building in his head. “I’m going to scout the rest of the camp.”

Around him, people got to work. The Inquisition agents were always quick workers, and they stayed out of his way. Bull meant to go around the edges of the camp, but he found himself back at the trees with chains. At second look, that one cuff had definitely been gnawed open.

He approached the tree with the broken chain and turned around to lean against it. The scouts worked to move all of the items in this camp to their own. Bull leaned his head against the tree and looked up.

This was going to be a bloodbath.

 

* * *

 

When the Inquisition camp was all set up and everything from the tents had been emptied, Bull finally approached Eldan, who was sitting by the fire. He was holding a tankard of something potent, and the redness under his freckles and scars told Bull that it wasn’t his first. He sat on the log someone had dragged over to use as a bench, a distance between himself and Eldan just in case.

“No one has come to collect anything from this camp,” Eldan said after a moment of looking into his drink. “What do you think that means?”

“I think it means that no one made it out of here alive,” Bull said, giving a small voice to one of the questions he very badly wanted to ask.

Eldan took a long, heavy gulp from his tankard. “Some did.”

“There were bodies, though. Horrors. Shadows. Knights.” Bull swallowed, his throat dry. For once, he did not feel like drinking. “They were...decimated.”

“I killed them, Bull,” Eldan said. His eyes were distant and cold. There were people around but everyone knew better than to get to close. “Every single of them fucked me to within an inch of my life, is that what you want to hear? The human escaped. Some of the templars. But everyone else, I killed. I killed every beast that fucked its way into me. Even the behemoth.”

The behemoth. Bull’s stomach rolled. Where had the body gone?

Up until that very moment, it had been speculation. Speculation that the Iron Bull knew was true, but Eldan had never said the words. Something about the words made it...almost unbearable. The reality of it all settled on him. He took in a deep breath through his nose. Strong, strong for Eldan, for when Eldan finally felt safe enough to be weak. “I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me, boss.”

There was a heavy clunk as a trunk was set down nearby. It must have been the last one because people started drifting off to their own tents. Dorian and Cole hovered within sight but out of earshot, and Bull knew that Krem wasn’t too far away.

Eldan turned to see the chest, then shifted his legs over the log until he was facing it, back to the fire. The light glinted off of the open chest, and his old teal armor inside of it. He only took a drink. The Iron Bull had noticed that his new armor was as plain as could be, without a touch of Eldan’s signature personality. He grunted and jerked his chin towards the chest. “You want that cleaned up?”

“No,” Eldan said. “When we return to Skyhold, melt it down. I do not want to see it again.”

“It’s your signature. People talk about it wherever we go.” Not always in the best terms, but still - he had been known for it.

“It was _my_...his. It was _Eldan’s_ signature.” Those green eyes were dark and stormy. Even his red hair seemed dull. “The Inquisitor needs no such thing.”

“Holy shit,” Bull muttered. He turned as well, and took Eldan’s tankard from him. “You...you are Eldan, boss. What happened to you, it doesn’t change that. Eldan is...the best part of you. Fuck the Herald, and fuck the Inquisitor. Eldan’s the one with the good heart, the one who cares to the point of making himself sick, the one with a killer sense of humor.

“I know you’re hurting. I know you just want to be the Inquisitor, and ignore what happened until it no longer hurts. But you are still Eldan, and that part of you still matters, past anything that’s been done to you, past any glowing green hand, and past any holy bullshit.”

There was no one else about. Even Dorian and Cole had disappeared. Eldan stood up and went the chest. He picked up one of the gauntlets and looked it over. Then he tossed it back into the chest. “The owner of this armor is dead, Bull. Eldan is gone.

“I will see you in the morning.”

The Iron Bull just let Eldan walk away, and watched the flap of his tent swing. He was left alone under the stars, other than the guards stationed out of sight. Bull raised the tankard to his lips and drained it. He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

Anyone watching by firelight would see his shoulders shake, and hear the empty tankard hit the dirt. Bull raised his hand to his mouth, hot tears colliding with his thumb, sinking down between his hand and his cheeks, following the curves of his lips. Eldan seemed so far gone; he deserved much more than that. Bull swiped at his eye with his other hand, but the tears kept coming. Over the lingering taste of the ale, everything was salt, bitter and drying over his lips.

The rain, which had let up a little, started to come down again. Bull knew that he should move, get into a tent - especially before someone came to look for him. He couldn’t move, though.

He just didn’t have the strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank everyone for all of the hits, kudos, and comments so far! <3


	8. Beyond This Place of Wrath and Tears Looms But the Horror of the Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've gone through and finally fixed any typos, as well as added chapter titles - all from the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley. I'm considering changing the name of the work to "Invictus" as well; what do you think?
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains some more detailed description of what happened to Eldan, and a man says some truly disgusting, blamey, transphobic things.

That morning, after having gone through all of the items from that camp and sending them off to Skyhold, the next point seemed to be Daerwin’s Mouth. Dorian was making copies of the location for each team - both the one they were going in with and the ones that were following. According to a reply to a message that Dorian had sent without asking, Varric was heading their way with Sera, Cassandra, and Solas in tow. Eldan would not be happy with him, but Eldan was not happy at all these days. Not that Dorian could blame him. It killed Dorian to see the man who had helped him deal with his father suffering so. He had gone to see Eldan that morning and found him sitting silently on his bed roll, rubbing one of his wrists and staring into space. Eldan hadn’t even seemed to notice that he was there. Dorian had hoped that Bull was in there with him but the Qunari was nowhere to be found.

So here Dorian was, sitting next to Krem while they worked on the copies. Krem cleared his throat. “We found the body of a behemoth crawling right towards Daerwin’s Mouth,” he said. “Which makes sense with what this orders say, you think?”

“It certainly looks like it. There was a heavy concentration of lyrium up there. Let me...Harding!” He raised his hand at the freckled dwarf. Krem smacked his thigh but he wasn’t sure why.

“What can I do for you, Pavus?” Harding said, setting her heavily armoured hands on thick hips.

He held up the notes they had been going over. “Have you or any of your people been over to Daerwin’s Mouth lately?”

“On the coast?” she asked, jerking her head in the general direction of the cave system. “Not since we cleared it all out. You think that’s where we’re all headed?”

“I think so. I’ll want to clear it with the Inquisitor, but we can at least start packing up.” Dorian looked to Krem. “Are you going with us, or heading back to Skyhold?”

Krem’s face was red and he was looking very seriously at the parchment in front of him. “I’ll have to see what the Chief wants. I fact, I’ll go...do that right now.”

Before Dorian could say anything, Krem had stood up and all but printed out of there. A playful smile was on Harding’s lips. Oh. _Oh_. Ah, field romance. One could never predict anything out here.

He smiled at her. “I’ll go check on the Inquisitor and see if he’s ready to move out.”

By this point, at least Eldan was out of his tent. He was just sort of standing by the fire and looking off into the distance, but he was up. “My friend,” Dorian said, coming up to him. Eldan seemed to snap back to. “We believe that we need to head towards Daerwin’s Mouth, and should do so before any word reaches them of our presence here.”

“Very well. Thank you, Dorian.” Eldan took the piece of parchment Dorian offered, but still looked distant.

“I...have also taken the liberty of summoning a back up party from Skyhold. They should be meeting us at Daerwin’s mouth,” he said carefully. “I know it was not my place, but I thought that it might be worthwhile.”

He thought that with the way Eldan was clinging to his role as the Inquisitor, that he would have...some sort of reaction to Dorian making a decision. However, Eldan just looked at him. “Very well. We will make for the coast line immediately.”

“A...as you say, El-”

“Inquisitor,” Eldan said. That one word was like a knife in between Dorian’s ribs. He watched Eldan walk past him. They needed to do something for him. Eldan was not seeking the help he needed.

Dorian jogged up behind him. “Inquisitor,” he said, conceding on that one point. “We have...always had a connection, I think, since the moment we met. I just want to offer my listening services. Or for you and I to play a game of cards, or to even just sit and read together. Anything.”

“Thank you, Dorian.”

The apology was a dismissal. Dorian accepted that this time, but hoped that Eldan had at least listened to what he was trying to say.

 

* * *

 

The Inquisitor greeted Varric, Sera, Cassandra and Solas as if he had been the one to summon them. Most of him did not care. After another sleepless night, listening to the distant waves and the rain that had haunted him, he was feeling blissfully numb again, so Dorian making a decision did not grate on him. A small part of the Inquisitor was hurt that maybe Dorian thought that he needed all of this back up, but it was small and quiet. After all, had the Inquisitor not ridden past the corpse of the behemoth that had almost torn him in half without even a blink? He was no longer phased by anything.

He explained to the arriving party what had happened the previous day, voice measured and perhaps even bored. Everyone was quiet as they made the trek through the small cave leading to Daerwin’s Mouth. Even Varric had nothing to say. It didn’t take the silence to hear movement on the other side. Armor, grumbling, the scrape of stone on stone. The Inquisitor took his axe in hand. “Dorian and Solas, wait back here. Varric, Sera, do not go beyond the steps. Wait until the rest of us have engaged them before attacking.”

He sent Cole out first, to dart between them. The moment he saw first blood, the Inquisitor tore out of the cave. There had to have been 20 or so of them - red templars, mostly, and a couple humans. Every lyrium arm he shattered became one that had been shoved against the back of his head to keep him down. When he heard the deep laugh of one of the knights, it seemed as if it were in his ear while his thighs were pushed open. The clinking of armor could have been unbuckled armor hitting the ground. Everywhere, he saw the flaming swords, the amulets, the damned amulets.

Now, however, there were other sounds. Bull roaring as he swung his sword through a neck. Cassandra counting down the dead. Sera’s bold laughter, the sound of Bianca discharging, magic buzzing all around him.

These monsters could not tie him down again.

It was hard, there was no doubt about that. The fight was brutal. Luckily, the smell of blood just spurred the Inquisitor, drove him harder, worked him up into a frenzy. When a behemoth loomed over him, the Inquisitor did not feel a lick of fear. The burning between his legs only fueled  him to run to that behemoth, raise his axe, and leap off of a rock.

The red hook of a hand caught him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and sending pain ripping through his entire body. His body hit the rocky shore with a resounding crack.

“ELDAN!” The shout was feral, and seemed to bring everything around him to a halt. His vision was swimming, but as it came back to, the face that came into focus above him was the Iron Bull’s. The Inquisitor had no flashbacks to pretending the attacks were Bull to make them bearable, no misunderstanding of where he was.

There was only laughter. The Inquisitor felt no mirth, but laughter started bubbling over his lips. It grew and grew in his stomach, his chest, erupting from his throat until it was the only thing he could hear. Bull said something, but the Inquisitor ignored it as he pushed himself up. He was still laughing when he got to his feet. He was laughing because he had sort of been hoping to take a heavy hit to his stomach. He was laughing because he knew that they were already winning this.

He was laughing because these beasts had no clue what they were up against.

The rest of the battle was lost to a pain-fueled slaughter. The Inquisitor tore through every enemy that came at him, and had quite a hand in the tearing down the behemoth. Every part of him was dripping blood as the battle wore down and his companions were finally able to lower their weapons. A potion was shoved into his hands and he drank it with no question. The wave of healing ran through his body vein by vein. Around him, his companions all did the same, checking on one another.

A thin hand fell on his shoulder. The Inquisitor turned to see Solas. “You took quite the blow to your abdomen. Are you alright?”

The Inquisitor let that hand remain where it was. “I am perfectly alright, Solas. In fact, that hit was more of a comfort to me than anything else.”

“As long as you are well.” Solas patted his shoulder rather awkwardly.

They started to gather anything left behind. The Inquisitor was concentrating on the task at hand, moving closer and closer to the second cave while he rifled through pockets. None of these templars were holding orders, but there was gold to be found, weapons, small valuables. When finding the bits and baubles of a past life - totems, rings, small portraits - he no longer thought of the men these red templars used to be. He just thought of destroying them so no one could be hurt again.

Together, they filled one chest before he was halfway done. Surely there was more awaiting them in the remaining caverns, so it was best to get it out of the way now. He kept a eye out, an ear out, for anything else approaching. The last thing the Inquisitor wanted was for reinforcements or even an uninvolved party to sneak up on them. As long as they kept things going this way, kept in charge, they would emerge victorious.

So when he came upon a pair of upright boots, the Inquisitor was understandably taken aback. He looked up slowly, over thick, armoured legs, a chestplate emblazoned with a flaming pair of swords, the amulet that had scarred his lip, a thick brown beard, and greedy eyes. A grin split that beard.

“My pretty little pet. You came all this way to look for me?”

That low, grumbling voice broke through the Inquisitor’s protections. He stumbled backwards, then scrambled backwards. His chest was heaving, his eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. The deep laughter of the man was like hot oil being poured into his ears - the very ears that had been ground between those teeth. Did anyone else see him? The Inquisitor couldn’t force himself to look away. “Was it so good that you had to come back? You were just on your knees in front of me. Ready for another round? I knew you liked this cock. You killed the one who loved you the most, though. That behemoth couldn't wait to mount you. I thought the Inquisitor always took big lovers.

“Of course I know. I see him right over there. He hasn’t noticed me yet. Does he know, that his little girlfriend is just another knife-ear whore? Does he know how I took your tight little-"

Then he was screaming, the bearded man was screaming and grasping at an arrow embedded in his hip, right between the joint of his armor. The screaming drew attention from everyone on the field, and the Inquisitor heard the sound of weapons being unsheathed, of Varric unfolding Bianca, and feet on the stones.

Sera came up beside him, an arrow still trained on the bearded man. “Did he just say what I thought he did? Did this slimy arse-sniffing cockbag just fucking say what I thought I heard!?”

The Inquisitor had no answer for her. Sera took a look between the two of them, then stomped over to the bearded man. He noticed her, but she was too quick. Sera grabbed his beard and put her arrow not on her string, but to his neck. The point drew blood. His struggles against her were fruitless. Sera was little but strong - especially when it came to a slight. She dragged him over to the Inquisitor, then tossed him into the dirt. Quickly, her arrow became trained on him. “Say it again. I dare ya.”

The bearded man looked over at the Inquisitor. With his insides trembling, the Inquisitor brought himself to his feet. He looked at the bearded man. This was the one, the one who had caught him, pushed him down, trapped him, and started it all.

This was the man who had raped him first. The one that had ground his dignity into the dirt, finished in his hair, then dragged him nearly nude back to that camp. This man had raped him more times than any of his lyrium-infested monsters, in every way possible. There was an already unfamiliar anger in him; it was not overwhelming, but it graced every it of his being. The Inquisitor spit on him. “What’s your name?”

The man showed no sign of talking, even as all of the Inquisitor’s companions formed a circle around him. Sera bent down and aimed her arrow at his neck. Then she shook her head and moved to aim it directly at his crotch. “H-hillvale,” he said, looking above him, where the rain was splashing from Bull’s blade. “Captain Paul Hillvale….”

A name which did not spark any recognition. That was not what the Inquisitor was looking for, though. “Tell me, Captain Hillvale, do you believe in the Maker?”

“Of course, he said, daring to look indignant.

The Inquisitor straightened up, brushing his foot against the ground. “Well, as you have so politely informed me, you know who I am. The Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste. So I believe that I am going to be correct in my judgement of what will happen when the cold lights of this world blink out on you.

“Not a fucking thing. Worthless scum such as you will not be accepted by your fucking Maker.” The Inquisitor raised his foot and pressed the toe of his boot to Captain Hillvale’s cheek.

Then he swung that foot back and kicked the Captain in the head with enough force that the whole body went limp.

Around him, his companions reacted, recoiling or steeling themselves. Under Sera’s cackling, he heard Bull swearing in Qunlat. Varric leaned in to get a better look at the man. He held a hand under that ugly nose. “He’s breathing. What are we doing with him?”

“Bull, are the Chargers still here?” The Inquisitor didn’t look at him, but when Bull answered in the affirmative, he nodded. “Have them take him back to Skyhold.”

Captain Hillvale was bound by wrist and ankle, and the Chargers came to haul him away. The Inquisitor watched until he was long gone. Captain Paul Hillvale might live forever in the recesses of the Inquisitor’s mind, but at least now they could stop him from hurting anyone else.

“We need to keep moving,” he said to the silence. “Who knows what else will be in there?”

No one dared argue as he turned and headed into the cave. The Inquisitor felt them following him, though, and that was what mattered. They were all with him, to put an end to this nightmare.


	9. And Yet the Menace of the Years Finds and Shall Find Me Unafraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Name change! This story is now called 'Invictus.'

Bull didn’t like this. He had caught the tale end of the conversation between Eldan, Sera, and the Captain. The only thing that was stopping him from chasing down the Chargers and slitting that man’s throat right now was the information he might carry. Those words he had said to Eldan burned in Bull’s ears, though, as he slashed his way through more enemies. Called him the wrong gender - his sword through the gap in a helmet. Knife-ear whore - the heavy hilt of his sword rammed into the back of a neck.

But the knowledge that this Captain Hillvale had done these things, along with a face to put the crimes to? That spurred Bull forwards like nothing else. They cleared the second cave out, leaving him blood-soaked with a dusting of lyrium shards on his boots. They took a moment to regroup, and he moved over to Eldan as the elf was examining the contents of a corpse’s pocket. “Anything in there, boss?”

“Nothing to tell us anything more than what we already know,” Eldan said in his slow, monotone way. What else had the Captain said to him? Bull wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to put any pressure on him.

Eldan gathered a few coins from the ground, and Bull just automatically held his hands out to take it. The moment that small hand touched him, however, Bull gently closed his fingers. He wasn’t restraining Eldan - just letting him know that he was not alone. “We’re all going to need quite a bath after this is over,” he said carefully. “Outside of Skyhold, in that warm spring.”

It was secluded, and only a few people knew about it. That was exactly why Bull was telling Eldan this. If Eldan wanted to talk, then that would be where Bull would wait for him.

“Perhaps,” was all Eldan had to say. Yet he did not pull his hand away. In fact, he pressed his palm to the Iron Bull’s, the coins between their skin.

They did not stay that way long before a voice rose up from the corner - distant, from the little side room hidden in the corner. “ _M...mana! Ma halini_!”

Eldan’s head whipped up. Across the room, Bull saw Solas stand from wherever he had been crouching. Eldan withdrew his hand and all but leapt across the room. Bull knew that Eldan’s knowledge of his own language was questionable at best, but even Bull knew that tone.

Someone down there needed help.

 

* * *

 

When that pained, panicked voice hit his ears, the Inquisitor could only hear his own tongue tripping over the words, reverting back to a language he had not used once since the Conclave and one he never had a true grasp of. His clan had called him a loner, because “outcast’ was too kind a word for a hunter of his skill. The Inquisitor had always gone off by himself, especially after he spat on his old name and took on his proper gender, pronouns, words. His Keeper, blessedly, had always understood him, but other than that he had always been on his own. Left to fend for himself.

This person calling out for help would not know what that felt like.

The Inquisitor leapt through the small gap in the wall, Solas following right after. They moved through the long, thin cave - wetness squelching in his boots, the unspoken threat of spiders no longer a source of fear for him - before slowly approaching the next open cave.  There was no one on the upper level at all, but the Inquisitor heard muttering and crying from down the stairs. He only took a few steps before he saw it - a caravan of wheeled cages, each over stuffed with nude or nearly nude beings of all sorts. Dwarves next to humans next to elves and even a few Qunari. All of them capable of bearing children. All of them scared, angry, sad.

He took a step forward and raised his hand. There were no templars in here. Just the captives. The others must have been further in, because the Inquisitor knew that they had not found the monsters in charge. Still, he could at least help these captives. “Hello,” he said, drawing attention to himself. Whispers met his ears. “You are safe now. You will be safe.

“I am the Inquisitor, and I am here to help you.”

There was a rush as anyone capable of opening locks freed them. The Inquisitor even spotted the Iron Bull pulling bars apart on one of the carts. Some captives ran the moment they were freed, but most remained in the cave, huddled around each other, hiding their nudity from strange eyes. Sera stripped off her own tunic and draped it over a young girl - too young, far too young for these purposes. The Inquisitor shrugged off his armor and shed his outer doublet.

A nude elf before him was on her knees. When the Inquisitor knelt, he saw that her face had no markings. A city elf? “Here,” he said, putting his doublet over her shoulders. “You are safe now. Where are you from?”

The elf shook her head, limp and dirty hair swinging around her face. “Th-thank you, Inquisitor, you are a hero, you are…”

He shook his head, then drew the woman to him in an embrace. She faltered against him before ducking into his arms. “No,” he said, wanting to do anything to help them. Nearby, he heard Bull speaking in Qunlat and higher-pitched voices answering. Cassandra was making the rounds with Dorian, checking anyone who had not responded. Hopefully, they were not dead. The Inquisitor held the weeping elf tightly as others surrounded him, on their knees as well, or finally on their feet by their own choice, whispered _‘Inquisitor,’ ‘Herald,’ ‘Maker sent,’ ‘blessed.’_ “No. I am Eldan, and I am the same as all of you.”

 

* * *

 

“You all are under the protection of the Inquisition now!” Cassandra said, resisting the urge to use all of the strength her voice usually carried. She did not know who else remained in the cave and did not want risk drawing any attention to themselves until these captives were safe. This was disgusting, absolutely disgusting, and she was going to bring these caves crashing down on the heads of any bastards who remained. “The Inquisitor promises safety, healing, and protection for all of you, as do all of us. Anyone who wishes may return to our stronghold. If you wish to return directly to your homes, you will be given a guarded trip there with Inquisition forces at your side.”

That was something Eldan had decided on for himself, but no one was going to debate with him. Not when it came to this. Most of the captives, once they were brought to their feet and greeted individually, huddled together near the stairs. “You all will follow me to our nearest camp, and we will move on from there.”

She gathered together Solas, Sera, and Cole, leaving Varric with the original party. If they were going to be traveling with such a frightened group, Cole might prove useful. As they readied themselves, she approached Eldan, who was inspecting the cages. Luckily those who had been laying in the bottoms were still alive - Maker only knew what finding bodies would have done to him in this state. “Will we be seeing you back at camp, Inquisitor, or not until you return to Skyhold?”

“That depends on how long it takes us here,” Eldan said, still sifting through rubble. Cassandra noted the way the Iron Bull hovered nearby. Not overbearing but available. “I want these people brought to safety as soon as possible, so do not wait for me to make the return trip. As soon as the guides are decided upon for those who will be taken home, move out.”

“Very well, Inquisitor. I have already sent word ahead to ready space for them. I am not sure where they will stay, bu-”

“My quarters,” Eldan said. “Remove my bed and desk, and there should be more than enough room to house these people.”

Cassandra hesitated. An order was an order, that she understood. She was not so sure about this one. “Inquisitor, you have a reputation to uphold, and have been told to rest, surely…” He was not even looking at her. Cassandra steeled her shoulders. She would have made the same decision as him, were their places switched. “Where will you be staying instead?”

At that, Eldan finally stood up, brushing debris from his hands. “With the Iron Bull either in his room at Herald’s Rest, or with the Chargers.”

Cassandra caught Bull’s eye, and the relieved look on his face as he nodded. Perhaps things between them had gone further than she knew; perhaps this had pushed them closer together. Either way, she was glad for the solitary Inquisition and his isolationist ways, glad that he had someone he seemed to be letting himself rely on.

“Very well. You will hear about this from Josephine, you know. The nobles will complain.”

“Dash the nobles.”

Cassandra was inclined to agree.

 

* * *

 

Once the captives had all been safely moved through the caves, Varric looked up the steps. “This shouldn’t be too hard. There are only about 70 caves back there to look through.”

“It should take us no time at all, then,” Dorian added, starting the trek. “We’ll be home in time for supper.”

“Tomorrow’s supper.” Varric followed him, with Eldan and Bull behind him. Normally he would have expected a quip from either of them, honestly. Bull was a fun guy and Eldan had always been a sparkling personality. The halls used to be filled with his laughter, jokingly telling his friends, ‘ _move, Inquisitor coming through_ ,’ while darting between nobles, or using his claim as Herald in flippant ways that offended the truly pious. ‘ _I, as the Herald of Andraste herself - tits, ass, and knickers alike - command that you cut that bread in the other direction!_ ’

He missed that elf. Varric had changed a lot since Kirkwall, and had sort of thought that his days making true friends were over. After all, once a hawk takes perch on your heart, nothing else quite fits in the cage.

Oh. That was good. He needed to save that.

Eldan had sort of changed his mind about that, though. He was a tiny little elf with a layer of pudge that no amount of running or jumping seemed to banish, a sassy mouth, a quick wit, and a pleasant humor. Varric liked everything about him. To have such a kind-hearted person be put through so much - well, it made for good reading, but when it was your friend things were very different. Now he was withdrawn and quiet, refusing to answer to the name that he had once so proudly given. Eldan had told Varric why he had picked that name one night, over a wheel of cheese and a lot of wine. ‘ _I was teased for it enough_ ,’ he had said, leaning all of the way back on the stool and swinging his feet. ‘ _Oh, it sounds so close to da’len, all the sounds are the same! They all thought I was trying too hard to distance myself from old name, but it wasn’t like that! Don’t get me wrong, that was a hideous name, but there’s just something about the one I picked!_ ’ He hadn’t offered the old name and Varric would never ask. Would Eldan ever just be able to sit and talk again, or was he forever changed?

And what of the Iron Bull? The giant qunari was taking this hard, too. Varric had seen the great romance building between the two of them. It was unbelievable. It was laughable. It was perfect. Varric could never come up with something half as good in a million years. Now though, with his lover undeniably suffering through something Bull couldn’t beat into the ground, the qunari was a much more vicious fighter but a much sadder person. Varric couldn’t stand it.

He let Eldan slip around front of him once they were up the stairs, running through the winding caverns. They took down a few red templars on the way, but found no more captives. Voices started to meet their ears - masculine ones, laughing, joking, slurring. Drunk? Were there drunk idiots down here? Varric shook his head, but the sounds grew as they moved under the mountain.

When they approached one of the final rooms, the entire group slowed. The voices were coming from just past the next door. Eldan held his hand out, and everyone settled as silently as possible.

“No, no!” one of the voices called out. Fereldan, it sounded like. “That idiot girl who kept beggin’, like we was gonna let her go!”

Another voice spoke up. “I liked the one who thought if she offered herself to US we wouldn’t throw her to the reds!”

“They aren’t yours to play with,” spoke up a third voice. This one was calmer, sober-sounding. “Those breeders are for the program. They are only here to be vessels and - nevermind, I don’t know why I try to explain things to you when you’re drunk this way.”

Eldan’s shoulders were hard and tense. Varric took a quiet step closer to the door. The voice continued, “Tomorrow we’re going to rotate the reds, so don’t stay up too late. I don’t want any hangovers in the morning.”

It was automatic. Varric wasn’t going to let them leave that room. He stepped into the doorway. In the moment it took him to read the layout, his presence was noticed. There were four men in the room - three at the table, with tankards in front of them. Off to the side, a man pouring over notes. The three drunks noticed him first, but Varric swung Bianca from his back and discharged a bolt at the man at the desk. He was best dressed, busiest, and sober. He was clearly the one in charge. The arrow was not meant to kill, but to pierce the man’s shoulder and pin him to the chair behind him. It was something Varric would not believe if he had read it.

Yet the move worked. The man roared as the arrow went through the flesh and Varric heard it strike wood. In battle, he was in tune with the needs of his companions, and he stepped back to give first the Iron Bull then Eldan room to move in. Dorian took up position behind Varric, sending sizzling magic just over his head.

All in all, it was a rather short battle. With Bull’s rage and Dorian’s magic, they made rather quick work of a man pinned to a chair and three drunks. Bull himself stood guard, blade against the seated man’s stomach while Dorian and Eldan restrained two of the drunks. The other one had bled out at Varric’s feet, and he kicked the body out of the way. If anyone came in behind him, Varric didn’t need to be tripping over any dead bodies.

“You in charge of this operation?” Bull growled, pressing the tip of his sword into soft flesh.

“I don’t have to answer to you,” the man spat.

Varric chuckled, but it was a dark, mirthless sound. “We’re the Inquisition, buddy, and you have a _lot_ to answer for.”

 

* * *

 

The Iron Bull had been the one to suggest locking their enemies in one of those cages. It meant him hauling the cart behind them like a beast of burden, but he didn’t mind. They just had to get to their team. The smaller of the carts just fit through the thinnest cave, and Bull was happy to jostle it as much as he could. These were the men behind all of this mess. Especially the one who Bull had barely been able to stop himself from disemboweling. That man was definitely the one in charge.

In the grand scheme of things, it was _his_ fault that Eldan had been tortured.

The rain outside was even more vicious when they emerged from the last little cave. He just kept pulling the cart, wheels clacking over wet, slippery stones. There was a makeshift camp set up nearby, according to what Dorian shouted over the rain. Bull would have to take his word for it - he couldn’t see that far.

What he did see was Eldan, walking ahead of him. Strong, sure footsteps.

Then no footsteps as he stumbled, falling to the ground in a single movement that splayed his arms out to the side, palms up. He hadn’t even tried to stop himself. The rain was all the Iron Bull could hear as he dropped the cart and ran to Eldan’s side. The elf’s eyes were closed but there was no blood. He looked almost as if he had just...shut down. Bull swore and gently looped his arms under Eldan’s limp form. He turned to where Dorian and Varric were watching. “I’ll send someone back to help you!” he shouted over the rain. “Just stay here!”

He turned back around to bring Eldan to camp. The Iron Bull had been carrying him a lot lately, but he didn’t mind. He would support Eldan in any way that he could. Bull would carry Eldan to every corner of Thedas, as long as it would help.


	10. It Matters Not How Strait the Gate, How Charged With Punishments the Scroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter this entire work was based off of, dreamed up as I stood in the running shower wishing I didn't have to go to work. There should be only one more chapter after this!
> 
> WARNING: Eldan talks even more about the details of his assualt.

When Bull went looking for Eldan that next day and did not find him with Solas, going over what had been brought back from the Storm Coast, he was unsurprised but relieved. Eldan was not with the refugees from the templar’s camp, either, which was sort of where Bull had expected him to be. Neither was he with Krem, nor Cole, nor Sera, nor Varric.

Bull was hoping that Eldan was out where Bull had said they would meet. Still, before he trekked all of the way out there, the Iron Bull hauled himself up to see Red. When he got to the top of the tower, she was peering out one of the windows. Without turning to look at him, she said, “This has been an unfortunate turn of events. The Inquisitor is bearing the brunt of a million victims before him.”

The softness in her voice made Bull angry on her behalf, angry on the behalf of anyone who had suffered so. He always knew that outside of the Qun, such assault was a very big problem, but he had never imagined all of the lives it touched until he was face to face with it. That was stupid of him, he supposed. “Have you seen him, Red? Has he left Skyhold?”

“I saw him pass by not too long ago. I thought he was staying with you.”

“You don’t think anything. You know things.” Bull looked past her, eye searching out of the window for any signs of Eldan. “He passed right out again the minute we got home. When I woke up, he was gone.”

Leliana smiled, but it was not her usual knowing smirk. Softer. More gentle. “He went south.”

“Thanks, Red.”

Bull took the stairs two at a time until he was back on the ground, only stopping to let Varric know that he was going to be with Eldan and no one should worry before heading out. That warm spring was to the south, water heated by a natural source and with a gentle waterfall that made bathing and washing especially easy. Bull had spent more than a few afternoons or evening there with young soldiers and anxious serving girls, before this thing started with Eldan. Now he hoped that the solitude of the place would offer Eldan the chance to talk to him, or at least relax a little. Or a bath.

Bull could have taken a mount, but it wasn’t worth it for the short trip there. Down the path not too far, around a large hill, and into a little copse of trees; the walk was simple. Bull heard the water before anything else. When he came through the trees, he called out. If Eldan was out here, Bull didn’t want to sneak up on him, and if anyone else had used this place for little trysts, Bull didn’t want to see any of that. Probably. “If anyone out here doesn’t want me to get an eyeful, cover up!”

The rocks along the water were empty. Nearest to the easiest path into the water was a messy blur of golden-yellow and teal. Eldan hadn’t stopped wearing that outfit while in Skyhold, at least. The yellow of the tunic clashed with his hair AND skin, and he told Bull that he was aware of that, but the teal sash didn’t match anything else, and Eldan loved that colour.

He cast his gaze out to the water, and for a moment did not see anything. He had been looking for bright red bobbing around just above the water, and the white of small clothes Eldan always wore while bathing. Bull had not been expecting the honey gold of Eldan’s skin, bare back scarred, body turned away to look out into the woods as the water poured over him. That’s all Eldan was doing. Standing perfectly in the nude (while Bull tried not to think about how this was the first time he had seen the elf totally naked, despite their physical relationship), just staring. Eldan’s round shoulders were low, his arms loose. There was obvious muscle under his chubbiness, which he needed for that giant axe he swung. His back and arms were scarred, from being a valiant fighter, a bold teenager, and a rambunctious little kid. Bull had kissed all of Eldan's scars, especially the ones that looked self-caused. His hair was rustling with the waterfall that he was half submerged in, the orange darkened just a bit and loose from the braid he always put in the side. Bull pulled his boots off and abandoned them near the trees. “Eldan!”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Eldan was just standing there, letting the waterfall rush over the entire right side of his body, submerged just past his hips. Bull tried to follow the line of his gaze, but there was nothing out there other than the trees. “Eldan,” he called out again. No answer. “I’m coming in!”

Bull didn’t bother removing his trousers. He just waded into the water as he was. It was always warm, yet Bull found himself bracing for the cold. The water jostled around him as he ventured toward Eldan. Instead of coming right up behind him, Bull kept a few feet away before putting himself in Eldan’s line of sight. He turned with a smile, but it faded as he saw Eldan’s unfocused eyes and the unbearable stillness of his body. “Boss,” he said, turning towards him completely. “Boss, you home?”

Nothing.

With fear building in the pit of his stomach, the Iron Bull closed the space between them. “Kadan,” he tried, the word finally spilling out of his mouth as it had been threatening to do for weeks now. “Kadan, it’s me.”

He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Eldan’s arm. Eldan didn’t jump. He just blinked a couple times, then shook his head. Eldan looked up at Bull with eyes that were clearer, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Bull turned just so, hiding Eldan from anyone that may come stumbling along. “Welcome back.”

Eldan just pressed his face into Bull’s chest. Bull stroked his hair and waited for him to be ready.

 

* * *

 

 

The Inquisitor did not know how long he had been standing in the water, and in fact did not even recall getting _in_ the spring. He did not know anything. He just knew that he had been living in a world where he was shouting out for Bull, just like Cole had said, and now Bull was here.

He had to take advantage of this. The Inquisitor could not live this way any longer. Now that he was pulled out of the waterfall, he could hear the birds around them, hear Bull’s heartbeat. He took a deep breath, breathing in the comforting, masculine scent of the Iron Bull. The Inquisitor did not pull his face completely away, just enough to talk. “I kept imagining you,” he said, feeling the guilt that he had been storing in his bones seep back out into the rest of him. “When they there…doing what they were doing, the only thing that kept my mind from snapping was trying to imagine you, squeeze my eyes shut and pretend it was YOU, that it would end, I would open my eyes, and we would be lying in bed, and…

“I feel terrible for it. For pushing your face onto my rapists’.” It was not a comfortable thing to say. Even the word exhausted him.

Bull tightened his arms around the Inquisitor, which was appreciated. That voice felt like a rumble under the Inquisitor’s cheek. “It’s alright. You were doing what you had to do to survive a traumatizing situation. You were keeping yourself sane. Keeping yourself alive. You did what you had to do and I am so, so proud of you for that. You are so brave and so strong.”

The Inquisitor dug his fingertips into Bull’s back, as if worried that he was leaving. But those large hands were still on him, that warm body still pressed against him. “I don’t feel strong. I feel weak, and pathetic. I FEEL, no matter how hard I try not to, the feelings keep coming back!”

“I know the feelings are hard for you, but it's okay for you to feel them. And you _are_ strong,” Bull said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The Inquisitor nearly melted under the gentle affection. “You escaped, didn’t you?”

“Because they healed me. After the behemoth, they healed me just enough to keep me alive. They had to, because, that thing almost destroyed me.” It had. It had broken his body, his pelvis cracked, his leg popped out of the socket to make room for its bulk. The Inquisitor had laid there all night, waiting, pained, but not crying. He was done crying by then. A part of him had hoped they were going to let that thing kill him – then they could do whatever he wanted to his body. That was before he knew that they wanted him alive, that he wasn’t meant to just be sport for everyone in the camp. “I nearly died, Bull. It nearly killed me, it cracked my bones, but they healed me and kept me alive. I had stopped crying at that point, stopped caring, or wanting, or needing. After they healed me, I chewed through one of my restraints, snapped the other one, and picked up the first weapon I found. It was dark. They were asleep. I killed six of them, I bashed six heads in, of the six that had been on me the most. Hillvale woke up, escaped with some of them. He had been the worst, especially knowing what I know now, that it was a br…a…a program, with a goal, and he was not red but came to me every day, humiliated me, t-took my dignity…not even part of their goal. Just to be cruel. But I killed that behemoth, I beat him with an inch of his life then ran for the hills. They caught me by a fluke originally, but it was not going to happen again.”

The words had been building up in him for so long. He shuddered, once, trying to keep control of himself. “I’m so tired.”

Bull rocked him gently in the water. “Of course you are. You’ve been carrying something very heavy all on your own. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to keep it inside.” He leaned down, bending so his mouth touched the Inquisitor’s ear. There was no sense memory of Hillvale’s teeth on him, no fear of the same happening now. Just the safety of the Iron Bull’s arms. “Tell me everything. Let me take it for you, Eldan. Let me carry it.”

Hearing his name did not jolt through him. Since he had returned, his name had caught on his very soul like silk on dry feet. Now, the Inquisitor did not freeze at it, not as he had done before.

So he did. He let it go. He told Bull of everything he remembered about that time, about how he was caught – cornered in a valley, Lord Speckles barely escaping – and brought to the camp, stripped, humiliated, broken. He whispered what they had said to him, words that made home in his ears, hoping that they would lose their sting if shared with someone else. Bull waited silently, but the Inquisitor felt the tension in his muscles with every muttered violation.

“The worst, though, worse than having lyrium-infused hands crush my hip bone, came later. When Solas figured out why I had been captured, what it was…I was so scared. It shook me to my core that after being so careful for so long, my worst nightmare could come true in the worst way possible…but it was under a layer of numbness, of paralysis. It’s still here, it still has me. I am grateful for that paralysis. Had I full control of my emotions, I would have disemboweled myself. I thought about it. I still think about it, just in case. I’ve taken potions. I was on potions before, you know that. And when that second behemoth caught me in the stomach, I was as close to happiness as I have been in weeks. I needed it. I still need it, Bull, I need proof -“

The Inquisitor didn’t realize that he was shouting until Bull stepped away from him, holding his shoulders still. “Eldan, that will not happen to you. You’ve been taking care of it. We don’t need to get drastic. If it will help, I’ll put Stitches on the case. I am promising to you right now that you are safe from that. It will not happen. Say it with me.”

“It will not happen,” they said, the Inquisitor barely able to say the words.

He stepped closer to Bull again, the water still sloshing about them. The Inquisitor had almost forgotten they were even in the water, or that he was naked. He looked at Bull and cupped that scarred face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can.” Even in this state, the Inquisitor heard the relief in Bull’s voice. Gently, carefully, the Inquisitor rose onto his toes and pressed their lips together. It was soft and chaste, and Bull let him have full control. He had to let these kisses, these touches banish any memory of Hillvale’s filthy mouth on his. Slowly. The Inquisitor would be slow, but he would do this. He could do this.

After a few kisses, his lowered himself. “How am I possibly going to judge them fairly?”

“Now that’s an easy one,” Bull said. He smiled, and it lit up the Inquisitor’s heart. Just a little. “You judge them exactly how they deserve. You have the power now, and you have full range to show them that.”

The Inquisitor nodded, then pushed his hair out of his face. He looked Bull up and down. “You…came in with your trousers on.”

Bull laughed, and the Inquisitor had to admit that he liked hearing the sound. Even more, he liked causing it. “Well, even if it’s me and you, nothing is scarier to a naked guy than a giant nude qunari barreling at him. Trust me.”

“I suppose,” he said. “Since you are here, bathe with me. I have these little scented things from Josephine, and perhaps they will help you. I know that I have put a lot of stress on you lately, and that things are still rough. I will not…be myself for a long time. But for now, let me help you, as you have helped me. I'll wash your back for you, massage some of those knots out.”

The Inquisitor could see Bull arguing with himself. For a Ben-Hassrath, he had a very expressive face. But he just smiled again after a moment. “Sure, boss. Anything you say.”

He stepped forward and lay his hand over Bulls’ heart. “No ‘boss.’ Not anymore. Call me Eldan.”

 

* * *

 

To be perfectly honest, the Inquisitor was not sure about letting himself be Eldan again. It was too much. Too soon. Too scary.

But that night, as he looked over the people gathered around the war table, Eldan knew that it was time. Because here, he was surrounded by people who cared about him.

Vivienne was standing across from him, tracing her fingers over part of the map. Just last night, she had come to visit him with a small satchel of something to put under his pillow, and it had knocked him out nearly immediately but given him the best night of sleep he had in weeks. Standing next to her was Dorian, who had known since the beginning and said nothing, who had healed him and dealt with his behavior, and not left his side. Next to them, Josephine and Leliana were talking softly. They had been quiet about everything, behind the scenes, and were working together to scour the lands for any remnants of the breeding program. Josephine glanced up and met his eyes. Eldan nodded at her and received one in return. Behind one of her ears, she wore a flower from a bouquet he had sent her as apology for the way he treated her that first morning.

On their other side, Cullen was pouring over paperwork with Varric, who was leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Eldan didn’t know if either of them understood how much they meant to him. Cullen who never treated him as if he were frail and ready to crumble, and Varric who felt more like a brother than anything else. Speaking of brothers, Krem was there at Eldan’s request, on Varric’s other side. Krem, who had slept in the tavern last night just so Eldan could have an extra layer of protection. Cassandra stood nearby, pouring over a report and comparing it with the map. She had been instrumental in helping the the victims of the program, and Eldan would remember that until the day he died.

Cole was off to the side as always, part of the group but not among them. Eldan was in the process of writing him a letter explaining his gratitude. Those were words that he did not know how to say, but he wanted Cole to know, to have proof of instead of just knowing because that’s what he did. Solas stood by him, holding one of the amulets in his hand. He had been oddly quiet during this whole thing, but indispensable in finding out exactly what was going on here. Sera was sitting in the table, grinning and talking to Blackwall. Blackwall’s sturdy presence alone was appreciated, and Eldan would never forget how Sera helped him with Hillvale.

They all were so amazing to him. He would be dead without all of them.

“Hey,” said someone behind him. The one who had been most integral to Eldan making it through all of this. “I’m behind you, alright?”

A large hand came to rest on his shoulder, a thick arm wrapped around him. Bull bent down to whisper in his ear. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Eldan said, holding one of the amulets in his hand as well. Hillvale’s amulet, the one that had knocked into his chin while he was rutted against in the rain. “I have to.”

He stepped back and cleared his throat. This was terrifying, but he wanted everyone to be on the same page. “Excuse me,” Eldan called out, raising his voice. Everyone looked towards him, and he clenched his hands around the amulet. “Thank all of you for coming here today. When I called everyone to this meeting, I was not sure what I was going to say. I still am not.

“First, I want to thank all of you for what you have done, for me, for the new refugees, and for helping to stop a fiendish program. This program was spearheaded by a man named Simun Lupercus, who is now in our custody with three other men. The main goal of this group was to breed the red templars with other beings to create hybrids that contained the best of both...ah, parents. As far as we understand, this is not something that Samson has any hand in. In fact, according to reports of missing templars found in the Hinterlands, Samson is not even aware of this program. We are interviewing these men, finding out what they know, and will be charging them with a list of crimes including kidnapping, conspiracy, and multiple counts of rape.”

As he knew it would, the room went from silent to tense and silent. Eldan did not look anyone in the eye, but held up the amulet for all of them to see. “From the timeline we have put together, it seems that the first victim of this group was myself. They have only been active for the past four weeks or so, when I was captured by a man calling himself Captain Paul Hillvale. When he first captured me, I was not meant for the program.

“He did not know that I am...that I have a body that is able to bear children.” That was another thing. Eldan was not open about his status, not brash and loud and joking about it the way Krem did, openly fighting for respect as a man and receiving it. Eldan just hid and hoped that no one would find out. Some had found out, by accident - Varric, Sera. Dorian knew by necessity, Solas by saving him after the explosion at the Conclave, Cole by the virtue of being Cole. Krem and Bull and all of the Chargers because when Eldan found a safe space with them, it had come out in a waterfall of confessions he had never been able to actually make. Now everyone in his closest group of friends would know, and he couldn’t take that back. But to him, it was necessary to understand this  situation. Why else would he have been part of the program? “But I do. When Hillvale first attempting to...use me for his own pleasure, he found out about my body and took me back to his camp.

“I was a prisoner for a week and a half before escaping.” Eldan’s hands were shaking, but he knew that he could do this. The worst part was over. “I am using this much as I can as a...a fortunate thing. If it were not for me being on the Storm Coast at that particular time, and getting captured, we would not have found out about this so quickly. I may never have been in such a numb place that I did not hesitate to kill the dragons in the Emprise du Lion, and the amulet we found that led Solas to the discovery of this plot might have just been tossed to the side, sold and forgotten. The poor people we rescued would still be there.

“I was also not well for the weeks following my capture. I want to thank you all for dealing with me. For helping me to heal, for putting up with the way I pushed you all away and was rude.”

“No one thinks that, boss,” the Iron Bull said. All around the table, heads were nodding.

“Trust me, if THAT was rude I dunno what I’d call some of the shite I’ve seen!” Sera called out. “Don’t talk like that, it ain’t like you!”

“...I was nothing like myself then,” he admitted, finally setting the amulet down. “I still am not. I do not know when or if I will be. But you all have been so helpful, and kind. I need that now, but so do all of the people who we rescued from Houghton and his men. They are being cared for as well as we can, physically and emotionally. Right now, I want them to be a priority. They are undoubtedly suffering.

“They are all just as I am, and for them, I will destroy any remnants of this program, punish those behind it, and get each of those people back to safety. This is not about what happened to me. I was happy to be only the Inquisitor and hide from my trauma in a glowing hand and waving banners. Now, I will take up the title only to give the other victims something strong to look to. But I will no longer be cold and distant. I am going to do everything I can as Inquisitor, and as Eldan. They will know me as the man who went through what they did, but also as the Inquisitor.

“I am going to finish this, for them, but also for myself. This ends now.”

Bull’s heavy hand landed on his back. Across the table, Cassandra heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Inqu...Eldan. Thank you for sharing these things with us. You have my guarantee that these men _will_ pay for their crimes.”

“Anyone else out there will be found,” Leliana said. “My network is vast and wide. Nothing will escape them.”

“No one outside of this room will know of your part in this terrible plot past what you choose to tell them. Any rumors of unfair punishment because of a personal connection will be squashed,” Josephine added.

“Would someone really say those things?” Cole asked, looking between Eldan and Josephine.

Varric tapped the table. “People who live with their heads up their asses will say anything, kid.”

Eldan looked over all them. His friends, who did not look down on him for everything that shamed him so. People who came from all corners of Thedas, here, supporting him. All in this room to help him.

“It seems we have a lot of work to do. Let’s get going.” Eldan got closer to the table, and started to make preparations for everything they had left to do. As he worked with those who were closest to him, his face formed the slightest smile. He did not fight it.


	11. I Am the Master of My Fate, I Am the Captain of My Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Apologies for the delay, but I got engaged! So everything else took a back seat for a while. Here, I present the final chapter of Invictus.

Sometimes, Eldan had to wonder if he wanted to get better. After a successful meeting, a dinner where he was able to keep everything down, and a game of Wicked Grace where everyone acted as if all was normal, he had slept heavily. He had honestly had a good time, for the first time since this all began.

Yet that next morning, he found himself in the dungeons. Eldan had visited with the refugees living in his old rooms, talking with them about their homes. Someone else - he didn’t even know who - had taken statements from all of them, and Eldan was grateful for that. He couldn’t stand the idea of hearing other people’s stories, their suffering. It had been a nice morning and he had promised them all justice.

The conversations still left a lot of thoughts swirling around his mind. He had let his feet carry him as he thought, so it was as if he woke up at the dungeons, just inside the door. Still time to turn around. Still time to avoid seeing the man he didn’t want to see.

Eldan thought perhaps that he should, though. See that Hillvale was just a man, someone who could no longer hurt him. Perhaps it would be good for him to see the man locked away in darkness.

He took a deep breath and walked down the hallway. He could heard shuffling, and the guard barking something. Eldan didn’t know what he would find, but it was time to see. He expected the men, smirking, still assured of their victory, lounging in the cells as if they owned the place. The guard, harrowed and tired. Perhaps laughter.

When he stepped into the holding cells, what he saw was very different. The three men from the caves in three separate cells, the man in charge chained to the wall. There was evidence that they had been fed and watered, but none of them were awake.

Captain Hillvale, however, was. The guard looked to Eldan, then stepped back and left the room.

As if to let him do whatever he wanted.

Eldan moved over to his cage. Hillvale was sitting on the ground, hands bound but not tightly. His head was down and he looked rough. Eldan was surprised by that. The Chargers and the Inquisition both took care of their prisoners. Hillvale stirred a bit, then looked up. Eldan remembered that face, but the leering smile was now a pulpy split lip. Those greedy eyes were distant, one now milky and surrounded by discolored flesh. His ears were red, even in his hair was matted with what could only be blood.

This was not how Eldan had last seen him.

Hillvale spat as close to Eldan’s feet as he could get. “Trumped up knife-ear,” he grumbled. That gravelly voice did not stir up the terror within Eldan that he expected. “You’re nothing, yet you stand above me as if you do not fit so perfectly bene-”

“Who did this to you?” Eldan asked, ignoring his venom. This man had no power.

“Why would you care?” Hillvale hissed. “As if it wasn’t done on your orders.”

No matter what Eldan said, Hillvale would not believe. It didn’t matter. “Tell me.”

“Your great lumbering sweetheart gave me the black eye.” Eldan shouldn’t have been surprised. But how had it gotten milky? He would not let the way Hillvale spoke of Bull stir up any sort of reaction in him. “Whaled on me until I passed out, like the brute he is.”

“And the lip?”

“His little friend did that, on the way back here. Were supposed to be just carting a prisoner but the ‘Vint with them didn’t seem to want to play nice.” Bull and Krem - the two Eldan trusted above all others. He wouldn’t say that he wished they hadn’t done it. “The ears, that blonde knife-ear with bow came down and just about pulled them off.

“Your guard didn’t do a thing. Left just like this one just did.”

Eldan just shrugged. The coldness that had been living inside of him was creeping back in, and he let it. If he could seem cold and unattached to this man, all the better. “You won’t be down here much longer. Your judgement day is already here.”

“Your little bullies can do anything they want to me.  _ You _ can do anything you want to me. It won’t change what happened, you know.” Hillvale’s words were a little mumbled through his injuries, but Eldan heard him clear as day.

“No, it won’t,” Eldan said. “But it will stop you from doing it again. 

“No matter what happens to you today, Captain Hillvale, know this one thing. I will never forget what you did. But I will not let it ruin me. I will not let you destroy me. Because you don’t mean enough to me to have that power. You are nothing to me.

“Enjoy the rest of your day.” Eldan whirled around and left, surprised that Hillvale fell silent behind him. He nodded at the guard before venturing back out into the sunlight. His knees were shaking, but he did not fall. His stomach was rolling, but breakfast stayed down. 

Eldan took a small amount of pleasure in the sun on the back of his neck, knowing that Hillvale would never enjoy the pleasure again.

 

* * *

 

The Iron Bull didn’t often see Eldan sit in judgement, but for this, he felt as if he had to be there. It was only right to offer him support. He stood off to the side, where Eldan would be able to see him from the throne but also in view of the prisoners. All four stood awaiting judgement at the same time. When he looked at Hillvale, he saw only the sections of that face he had left unmarred. If it wasn’t for this sentencing, Bull would have killed him. Bull would have tied a rope around his ankle and dragged him around Skyhold until the screaming stopped.

But that wasn’t his choice to make. The Throne Room was full to bursting, with people watching from outside. Word had spread that this would be quite the sentencing, but Bull could tell that the reason was not widely known.

He straightened up as Eldan approached the throne. A few of the refugees followed him. Eldan was silent as he offered them a seat before taking his own seat. He folded one leg over the other. Neither Josephine nor Cullen were standing there as they usually were. Instead, Eldan was holding Josephine’s usual board. He did not glance down at it. “Today we present for judgement,” he started, “Souren Addington, Varen Hanivel, Paul Hillvale, and Simun Lupercus.”

Lupercus - that was the man who had been in charge of this. He hadn’t hid a single thing, admitted to everything right away. Lupercus didn’t seem to feel any guilt or even much care that he was in custody. He had already told a furious Bull that he was just trying research what would happen, that this was all experimentation.

Bull could not  _ stand _ how bored he looked. Hillvale still looked angry, and the other two - Addington and Hanivel - were merely afterthoughts. Bull had stayed up late last night, reading their reports with Eldan sleeping next to him and Krem on Eldan’s other side. They had both been knocked out, Krem’s head on Eldan’s shoulder. Anyone other than his closest friend and Bull might have been jealous. Now Krem was standing almost directly across from him, arms folded across his chest.

“The four of you are being charged with the same crimes each. Kidnapping, conspiracy, and 25 accounts of rape shared between the four of you. This excludes any accounts that have yet to be officially recorded, but includes any acts done by red templars following your orders, as well as five counts of rape against Paul Hillvale personally.”

“What proof have you?” Hillvale growled. 

Bull was so proud to see Eldan calmly flip through parchment. He mentioned first the mentions of them all in official statements made by the victims. Eldan then allowed the refugees behind him to speak. Some were sad, some were angry, but all named the men in front of them as having some hand in their suffering. While Hillvale seemed enraged, Lupercus did not buy an eyelash. “I have one final witness, who heard an admission of your guilt with your own mouth. I call to witness Sera.”

The full confidence with which Sera sauntered over not to the throne, but to Hillvale himself, almost made Bull laugh. That was the sort of person you wanted on your side. She walked around him in a judgmental circle, then stopped in front of him. “Now, I ain’t know much about these other blighters,” she said, hands on her hips. “But I know what I ‘eard you say to the man on the throne. Now, when it comes to blokes on thrones and people in chains in front of ‘em, I’m usually on the side of Chains. But this...see, this is different. For once, the guy in the big chair is alright, n’ you? Yer real offal, ain’tchya?”

“Sera,” Eldan called out. “Thank you, but can you please give your testimony?”

She looked at him, then took a step back. “I only know what I ‘eard, but this was it. We was right in Daerwin’s mouth, n’ I saw the Inquisitor facin’ off with...what’s yer name again? Shitarse?”

“Hillvale,” he grumbled.

“Oh, sorry, right. Anyways, Hillvale was lookin’ right cocky, don’t think ‘e knew I was listening. He looked right at the Inquisitor, called him ‘pretty little pet.’ Said the Inquisitor came crawlin’ back to him.”

There was a rush of whispers through the room as a few of those watching seemed to realize what was going on. The Iron Bull told Eldan that he didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to air out his own trauma. Eldan had just said he couldn’t expect the other victims to feel safe coming forward if he didn’t as well.

Sera didn’t even hesitate, didn’t glance back to Eldan to make sure it was alright. Bull knew that they had talked about this beforehand, and was pleased with Sera for making this easier on Eldan in any way she could. “Hillvale asked the Inquisitor if it was ‘so good’ that he had to come back, asked if he wanted more.”

Another round of whispers. Everyone knew now, or would by the end of this hearing. Eldan was stone in his seat, but not because he was scared. He was so strong up there.

“Then he mentioned some of those red whatsits that  they was forcin’ on the others, and asked if the Inquisitor’s man over there knew what Hillvale did. I remember exactly, Hillvale said, ‘Does he know the way I took your,’ then he screamed, because I shot an arrow into him.”

“Thank you, Sear,” Eldan said. “As you see, we have more than enough witnesses. I just want to hear what you all have to say.”

Bull leaned against the wall and watched Eldan get to work. Sera came to stand next him, and he clapped her on the shoulder. He didn’t know what was going to happen to these men, but everyone would know the monsters they were now.

 

* * *

 

After Lupercus admitted his guilt in the case in front of everyone, the three others did the same. Eldan sat alone at the war table after the judgment, surrounded by only quiet and the scratching of his quill on the parchment as he made notes. 

Lupercus had been a scholar, a man who studied on his own and had a found a fascination with the red templars. He captured troops of them and had at first just been experimenting on them. It had been when he noticed that they still seemed to experience sexual drive that he came up with the idea of breeding them. None of the pregnancies had taken, which was indeed a relief, but the victims were still being monitored.

‘Captain’ had been a title given to Hillvale to make the more aware templars respect him. He had been nothing more than a mercenary hired off the street. All of them were, paid in coin to help commit atrocities, and all for what? To satisfy a sick man’s scientific curiosity.

Lupercus normally would have been given over to the remaining templars, but considering all that was happening with them, that choice was not the right one to make. Following a bit from advice from everyone around him, Eldan had made the decision to execute Simun Lupercus. He was of no high family, with no ties that could rage vengeance upon them, he had kidnapped templars as well as his victims, and Eldan wanted to offer the peace of his death to those he had attempted to destroy. Every single refugee had expressed desire for revenge. Eldan himself still had blood splatter on his boots from the decapitation.

Hillvale, Addington and Hanivel, had been assigned hard labor for the rest of their life. Eldan had already heard people gossiping about how if word of their crimes followed them, they would not live out a week. Before they left, however, they were being interrogated for any remaining information. Eldan would not be doing that. He couldn’t, not anymore.

Just about as his stomach was telling him it was probably time to try to eat something, the door swung open. Cole was in front of him before Eldan heard the door shut. “Come with me,” he said, holding out a hand. “Please?”

“What is it, Cole?” 

“Just come…” Eldan cleaned up what he had just finished and set it off to the side, then stood. As he rounded the table, Cole took his hand. Cole raised his other hand, putting his finger to his mouth. Eldan nodded, wondering just what was going on. He let Cole lead him through Josephine’s surprisingly empty office, then down into what Eldan affectionately called the Room of Mysteries, which branched off into a terrifying library and a room holding the bottles he had been collecting during their travels. Cole ignored both of those rooms and brought Eldan through the kitchens. They moved quietly, even though with dinner already being served the kitchens were empty. Eldan followed Cole down the steps. Blackwall spotted them from the stables and waved once. Eldan nodded, but Cole kept pulling him. Moving quickly, they avoided the few people who were not inside eating. Cole and Eldan crossed the lawn and crossed the bridge.

Eldan’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw a carriage waiting on the other side of the open gate. It was large, with Krem sitting in the driver’s seat. 

“There he is!” Krem called out. The carriage shifted a bit as the door opened. There was no ceremony, just Eldan being shuffled into the open door. When he was given a moment after the door shut behind himself and Cole, Eldan realized just how big the carriage was, and why. Sera sat nearest the door, eating something messy. Next to her, Varric cradled a book, and Dorian sat on the other side with a deck of card that he was shuffling. 

On the very other side of the carriage, Bull sat tucked in the corner. He raised his arm. “Take a seat, boss.”

Eldan did just that, leaving Cole to sit on his other side. The moment they were both sitting, Bull hit the top of the carriage, which jolted into motion. “What…” Eldan tried. When the rest of his words didn’t come, he took a breath, then started again. “What’s going on?”

Dorian smiled. “We are going to be welcome visitors under the generous hospitality of a lovely Montilyet property right along the water. No one’s ever there. It’s small enough to escape notice, but I hear it’s a beauty.”

“We got Ruffles to cough up the location when we told her that our Inquisitor needed a vacation,” Varric added. 

“No, no…” Eldan said, even as he let Bull tuck an arm around him and pull him close. “I’m...I’m the Inquisitor, I can’t just take a vacation.”

“Then what are you doing now?” Cole asked as the carriage trundled along the path, away from Skyhold.

“Told’em you wouldn’t like it, Ser Lordybloomers,” Sera said. “Which is why when they asked if I wanted to come I signed right up! Much rather fart around someplace in the wild open and play in the water than be here with everyone lookin’ at at everyone else all sad.”

Well. When she put it that way...Eldan thought it might be nice to just step away for a day or two. No longer. “Well. I guess since you all kidnapped me, I don’t have a choice now, do I?”

“There we go!” The Iron Bull laughed and squeezed him around the shoulder. “Now who brought the refreshments?”

Eldan found it very easy to relax into the card games and conversation He didn’t participate much, but enjoyed hearing Sera talk about some things she had gotten into with her Friends and Dorian tell a scandalous tale from a dinner party. It was nice, and didn’t feel as if he was being singled out. He never wanted that - not for being weak, at least. But it didn’t feel as if this was just for him. This was a group of friends moving on from a tiring time, taking a short vacation when none of them had a moment to themselves in months. After all, Eldan may have been the Inquisitor, but this? These people surrounding him, heroes and thieves and mercs and spirits?

This was the Inquisition.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached the coast, the sun had gone down and everyone was asleep. Everyone save Eldan and Bull, sitting in their corner of the carriage. The colors of twilight crept in around the curtain as Eldan played his fingers over a scar on the Iron Bull’s hip. “We won’t be able to rest for long,” he said, voice a hush to avoid rousing any of the others. “There’s too much to be done.”

“I know,” Bull said. “But for a day at least, maybe two, we’ll all be able to forget. Have dinner. Dance, maybe. Teach Varric to swim. Teach  _ you _ to swim.”

“I can swim,” Eldan said. 

“Not well.”

He didn’t answer, because he knew Bull was right. Eldan turned to face him more, and Bull rubbed a circle in his his shoulder. “You doin’ alright, Eldan?”

Eldan took a deep breath, nostrils full of Bull’s familiar scent. He felt Cole’s odd presence - warm, but almost static against him - on his other side. Across from him, Dorian was snoring in a very undignified way. Varric had his head tilted back hands resting on Bianca in his lap. Sera had a blanket pulled all of the way up over her head and was muttering in her sleep. Outside, Krem was still at the reins despite all of them offering to switch places, and Eldan could hear him singing something.

“Yes,” Eldan murmured into Bull’s skin. “I’m doing just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This was a labor of love written until to satisfy my own desires, so I'm really happy anybody read it! <3


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